Immortal
by Fawx
Summary: The road to humanity is far more difficult than one can imagine. AU, KuramaKuronue
1. Memory

The Mountains wore their Autumn Kimono, clothed in their finery of red and gold. The heavens boasted blue skies and pink-cream clouds, with grey storm spirits teasing the revelry of their brethren. Nature posed herself, and fluttered breath swept at her mountain face. All was serene in this world.

Or so was the view of the poet and the idealist. In the Courts of Glass Moon—the court of the change-spirits and animal demons of the mountain—all was unquestionably _not_ well.

Sōjōbō, Lord of The Western Peak of Kurama Mountain, Prince of Tengu and Master of the Court of Glass Moon, looked at his youngest son and gave a loud, aggravated sigh. Kuronue was a particularly… difficult child. As was sometimes the lot of the particularly headstrong youth, he was being thorny with his father—and while this was not an unusual state of affairs, the context was unique.

Kuronue played himself as a 'Free Spirit,' and as such, refused to marry. Even parading the most beautiful and influential of the available brides in front of the boy—it had been a circus!

Certainly, his brothers were not nearly so fussy… or rather, Sōjōbō didn't_ remember_ them acting so foolish. Tadashi had put it off for nearly a century, and Akira had promised himself to nearly fifty girls before Sōjōbō had found out. But neither of them had been so…_vocal._

"I think I would classify this as an _outrage,_ father. That I don't _know _the woman is bad enough—"

"You met her yesterday." Sōjōbō sighed, resting his head on his fist. "She's the one who spilled tea on your book."

"Clumsy, even!" Kuronue gasped. "How do you expect me to have a graceless wife?"

"She wouldn't have tripped if you hadn't strewn your ink-set around everywhere."

"Well then, is she _blind?_ She couldn't possibly have missed a kit of that size. A blind wife, can you imagine?"

"Kuronue, you know as well as I do that she isn't blind or graceless. I don't see why you're so against this. She's a perfectly fine woman, good breeding, and she has a sizable dowry," he mumbled, rubbing his temples. _Nothing_ would convince the boy to give her a second glance, but she was the daughter of a friend, and he at least had to try.

"_You_ marry her, then." Kuronue snapped, turning to gaze out to the veranda. The sky was darkening, and they could both distantly hear rowdy storm spirits on the wind.

"I believe your mother would disapprove of that." Sōjōbō answered. "She wants to see you start a family." There, Kuronue often listened to his mother, at least. Tsukiko was adept ad dealing with her son; after thirty years, Sōjōbō was finally on the cusp of being used to the constant arguments. Ever since he could talk, Kuronue would ask 'why', 'how', and 'why not?'

Sōjōbō sometimes cursed the fact that it would be another fifty years before his son grew out of total adolescence.

_Another fifty years of this and I will go insane._

Evidently, Kuronue had run out of steam. He was quiet now, staring out the shoji doors to the rapidly darkening sky. Lightning was crackling now; Sōjōbō knew that most—if not all—of Kuronue's friends were storm and sky spirits. The boy's love of the sky was unrivaled by any other Tengu.

He wouldn't admit it, but this filled Sōjōbō with a sense of justifiable pride. Kuronue had all the makings of a Storm Lord, if he would just grow out of his childish petulance. The title of Storm Lord was one Sōjōbō had very nearly earned himself. One he would have gained easily if not for certain failed campaigns against an old and greatly treasured enemy.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a soft scratch at the inner doorway, and the composed voice of his servant and Seneschal, Ruko.

"Speak, Ruko." He murmured, turning a sigh at his son, who was now ignoring him.

"My lord, The Youko has returned from his wandering. He ascends the mountain as we speak."

Well, indeed speaking of the devil.

"He comes alone?" Sōjōbō asked, turning now towards the door.

"My lord, yes. He is dressed for travel and is taking the priest's road to the eastern peak."

Sōjōbō nodded. That road was an easy marker between his territory and that of the insufferable demon fox. He turned this information over in his head a moment. How convenient that Youko should be announced just when Sōjōbō's thoughts were travelling his way. He smiled to himself, and addressed Ruko.

"Ruko, inform the household that we will be entertaining a guest soon. Have a room prepared. The nice one." He then turned his face upwards, and sighed.

Ruko left at once, Sōjōbō could hear the soft scrabbling of the demon's hoofs on the wooden floor. He then turned to Kuronue, who had turned his head very slightly to hear the exchange.

"Go to your room, Kuronue." He said, an edge of finality coating his voice.

"What? I…" Sōjōbō nearly laughed at his son's surprise. "Why?"

"There is no reason for me to tell you why, boy. You'd make excuses anyway. Now, do not leave your rooms until I call for you." He turned his back on his son, who sputtered protest for a brief moment before he gave up, and left his father to the silence.

Sōjōbō listened for the door to slide shut, and eased into one of the more comfortable chairs in his room. What a bright, irritating child he had been given. He wondered quietly if the Emerald Mother had sent her laughing blessings the day Kuronue was born. And such a day that was…

He shook himself away from his thoughts and gathered himself together. He would be entertaining an 'old friend' soon; he would want to look his best. As he paced to the door to his private rooms, He glanced at the small bookshelf behind his state desk. A spark of red reflected in his eyes for the briefest of moments before he turned to his room and called lovingly to his wife.

* * *

Mount Kurama was silent this evening, almost peaceful. The man who took his name from the mountain observed this and discarded the thought quickly. The Tengu of Mt. Kurama were surely watching for him, keeping silent and out of sight to lull him into false security, and preserve the shaky peace between him and their master. He had noticed their eyes days earlier, when he had come to the base of the mountain, traveling paths left mostly to the insane and the priests that made their homes here. 

He hefted the pack on his shoulders—it was twice as heavy as when he had departed so long ago. He smiled ruefully to himself.

_My dear sisters spoil me too much._

His sabbatical to Korea had been a fruitful one: he had visited family, giving blessings to his many sisters and accepting the graces of his mother.

She wasn't… _really_ his mother. She was a _Kumiho_, not a Kitsune, and far too young to be his actual mother. But the woman's maternal drive had been far too strong for him to call her a mere sister, so 'mother' she had become.

He had met Sondok four centuries ago, after a horrible miscalculation had caused him to find himself on the wrong end of a _Same-Bito's_blade. Shark demon, that one was, and an especially mean one to boot. Youko had never been a swimmer, in fact he hated being in water deeper than your average bathing spring, and had made a general and careless slip of the tongue in the wrong company. He'd killed the shark but the nasty bites he had received for his troubles were far more than he could have handled on his own, and the fox-siren Sondok had found him near the northern coast, curled around his wounds and cursing every living thing in the sea.

When he came to his senses—not more than a day or two later—he had found himself _surrounded_ by Kumiho. Sondok was more than just a fox-woman living among humans—she ran a brothel with her many, _many_ younger 'sisters.' For Kumiho, human men were a source of nourishment, their energy sustained them the way that human food or flesh could not. She was a genius and a shrewd businesswoman, and treated her little girls, Kumiho and human alike, very well. He had recovered surrounded by them, trading stories and Gifts—fox magic and sorcery—and, in what seemed like no time at all, they became his family.

He pushed the thoughts of his family aside; he was beginning to miss them already. Instead, he focused on his surroundings. The Forest was shifting, on the brink of transition from summer to autumn. Maple and gingko splashed color against the deep greens of the bamboo, cold meltwater streams laughed down the mountain face. He heard the whispers of watchers in the trees, and knew that the _other_ denizens of the mountain had heard of his arrival.

_The Youko Kurama returns—he has arrived—the monster has returned_, they would sometimes whisper, thinking wrongly that he could not hear. The plants they used as cover betrayed them to his senses. They may have thought differently, but to the flora of the mountain, it was clear who ran _this_ mountain.

And it was certainly not a foolish, aging bird.

Kurama allowed himself a tiny smile, and climbed onward. It never ceased to amuse him that the deliberately bad stories he had spread around about himself had such a, _permanent_ effect on people. Two thirds of the soldiers he _knew_ were watching him had probably never seen him before; he distinctly heard someone whisper to a companion: "I thought he'd be… taller." And that was just one. Stories that he was ten feet tall, had a thousand tails and claws that could split the very mountain in twain; and that one particularly hilarious bit of tomfoolery that his name was a word forbidden by the gods. And the delicious wicked fact that no one could track where the stories came from _really_ gave him a good chuckle. Even the oldest Tengu or Tanuki didn't know how to track him when he didn't want to be; and the endless amount of illusions at his expense just added to their collective confusion.

He would have been caught at it, too, if it wasn't for that wonderful idiot Sōjōbō. And speaking of…

As the long trail crested, he noticed a small group of attendants standing at the crossroads between Sōjōbō's territory and his own. At the fore stood a boar demon that was dressed like a seneschal, and a small, terrified looking Tanuki woman, who approached him.

'L-Lord Youko Kurama…" She stuttered, trembling as he looked down on her. "My Lord Sōjōbō of The Western Peak of Kurama Mountain, Dai-Tengu and Master of the Court of Glass Moon, wishes that you stop to rest and refresh yourself at his Household. We are to escort you, if you please." The woman got the entire speech out in one breath, and hastily retreated behind the piggish creature who gave Kurama a contemptuous look. Kurama wondered at the long list of names the old bird had procured for himself in his absence.

_Impressive, but useless. A thousand names mean nothing when you're still a blithering idiot._

Kurama nodded to her and considered Sōjōbō' offer. It had been four decades since his departure from Japan, and longer still since he had even spoken to one of his servants, much less Sōjōbō himself . But even so… this sudden show of hospitality set Kurama's nose to the wind, and damned if he didn't smell a rat.

The seneschal pig he had all but completely forgotten suddenly cleared his throat, calling Kurama's attention.

"My Lord also requests that you dine with Him tonight, to discuss certain… incidents of times past." The pig arched the ridge on his face where eyebrows might have been, and gave Kurama an appraising look. "My Lord wishes to call you attention to a, shall we say, deal that you and He made long ago. Something about a trade?" The pig said, looking incredibly full of himself. Kurama blinked at him, momentarily confused.

_A trade, what does he… oh. That. Well then, if he's so eager, might as well take him up on the offer._

Kurama tilted his head slightly, and gave them all his most entrancing smile. "Please inform Lord Sōjōbō that I am honored to be received, and that he flatters me with his offer. Please inform him also that I would be more than happy to discuss our agreement... at his leisure, of course." Kurama turned his grin full force at the pig, giving his escorts the disturbing impression that he was going to skewer the seneschal over a spit and eat him for dinner.

Well, the idea had merit, if nothing else.

_And it has been a rather long while since my last meal…_

The pig snorted arrogantly and turned to give his companions their instructions. With the Tanuki woman, Kurama noted two low-ranked Tengu, a boar, and an aging wolf grandmother who looked like she would rather be sitting next to a warm hearth rather than standing in the middle of the forest.

_Either he's trying to let me know he doesn't mean any harm, or he REALLY doesn't like these people for some reason.__Poor old woman…_

Kurama watched them silently and let his mind wander back over the years, to the last day he had seen old Sōjōbō in person. He let his thoughts skip over time as he followed the servants up the western trail, and to the gate of Sōjōbō's home.

* * *

"Send me to my room, will he?" 

Kuronue paced around his room, raging at his abrupt imprisonment. He moped, he whined, he even considered throwing a tantrum, but that might have been taking it a bit too far…

He kicked his futon, and plopped down atop a convenient pile of cushions and stuff that had been tossed about by his paroxysm, and pouted. Again. This pattern had been repeated for at least two hours by his recollecting (well, in reality, fifteen minutes—but cruel and unusual room-sending had a way of defying all concepts of time.)

"I'm not a child." he kicked out his feet and sprawled over the cushions, throwing his arms over his eyes. Outside, thunder spirits were playing in earnest. He envied them; they were probably wondering why he wasn't out there, flying and teasing along with them. But no, not tonight. Not when the Autumn storms were just getting their big wind, the nice, ravaging storms that would be certain death to any lesser beast.

"Because of that Demon that Ruko spoke of…" He flailed around to lie on his stomach, and called out to Kimidori—another Tengu, and his personal servant.

"Kimidori, attend a moment?"

"My lord?"

"Who's this Youko fellow who is visiting tonight?" He asked. _No one truly important, I'm sure. Father's just an opportunist. Like myself, unfortunately.._

Kimidori was quiet for a moment.

"My lord, surely you are jesting with me? Is this a new game?"

Kuronue fidgeted uncomfortably. It would be nice if Kimidori would take him seriously once in a while.

_Why do people always think I'm being funny when I'm serious?_

"No, I want to know. Is he well-known or powerful?"

"Well…" Kimidori moved into the main room before answering. "They used to call him the 'Poisoner,' but I think everyone has settled with calling him the Demon Fox—Youko—since 'Poisoner' is just so common a name for the demonically inclined these days."

Kimidori paused and looked at Kuronue, one feathery eyebrow raised. "You are sure you've heard nothing of him? He is rather famous."

"No, I've never heard of him. Not a high ranking lord, is he?" Kuronue asked—He couldn't help it now, he was curious.

"I do not jest. He is also called the Bandit King, The Bane of Kurama Mountain, or Youko Kurama. He's not truly any kind of _Lord,_ per se, just very old and powerful."

Kuronue turned that over in his mind.

"Why does he have so many names? What's his real name? Why Bandit King?" He picked at the pillows he rested on, playing with the tassels—much like he had when Kimidori would tell him stories when he was very young.

_But this is no story…_

"Nobody knows his name…. Some say he was never given a name, some say his name is the secret to his power, so he doesn't tell anyone, others say he was cursed by the Great Mother, and speaking his name is a sin against the Gods, so nobody says it. "

"I can't imagine someone unfortunate enough to have that over his head."

"To be sure. As for the title of 'Bandit King,' about two hundred years ago he led a rather large guild of thieves… but it seemed he became bored of them, or they all died. However, he retained the name here. He and your father are, well, the Gods cannot make two mountains without a valley in between."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Youko and your father, they are both powerful, are they not?"

Kuronue blinked at him. "Ye-es, but I…"

"Well, because they are both powerful, they are constantly at odds. Youko is powerful and very old, he holds much in the way of experience, knowledge and wealth. Your father, by comparison, is powerful and young—hot-blooded and arrogant.

"Nearly a century before you were born, My Lord led a small army against Youko's territory to try and claim the lands as his own, and to loot the treasures that are rumored to be buried within. He lost, badly. Since that time, Youko has been helping himself to our coffers and the treasures of our guests, as a kind of revenge." Kimidori sighed. It had been so long ago, that day that a battered and traumatized Sōjōbō had returned from his horribly failed campaign.

"It is believed that Youko had made a deal with My Lord in exchange for his life." He ruffled his feathers, moving to a more comfortable position. "Youko was very kind to My Lord, but I don't think he took it that way."

Kuronue sat up now, hugging one of the pillows to his chest, a look of rapt attention glued to his face. "Why not? I mean, if Youko let him live…"

"I believe your father saw it as an insult, or that Youko thought him too beneath his notice to kill.

"Huh."

"Indeed."

They were both silent then, Kuronue musing over the story of this Youko, Kimidori listening contentedly to the rain and thunder outside. Kuronue twisted the story over in his mind, suppressing a wild and gleeful grin.

_He is a thief, and a good one at that. Father doesn't know what I get up to with Yagane and Hokushimaru when the storms come. I wonder if he even bothers to check where the entire "overflow" in his coffers is coming from._

Kuronue had been stealing from priests and lords since he got his wings, thanks to his two less-than-moral friends. Hokushimaru was a lover of fine things, as was his sister Yagane, but trouble in their own courts had led to them being forbidden spending money for the next century unless they could find it themselves. They were of a mind that any _respectable_ kind of work was far too plebian and beneath them, but they didn't want to do the thieving on their own. Enter an inquisitive and resourceful Tengu and they had exactly what they needed. Kuronue didn't _need_ any of the profit; he rarely kept anything he stole, which usually consisted of untraceable and re-sellable jewelry and the occasional coin and unset gems. Yagane tinkered with accessories, so the gems and precious metals went to her. Hokushimaru just liked to spend money on women.

Kuronue, however, just loved the thrill; the secrecy of it; the challenge. It was much more stimulating than boring nights watching the moonlight on water and reading poetry to kinfolk nobles. Even killing impious priests had lost its taste. (Not to mention the priests themselves. He'd partaken of human flesh several times, and every time it tasted just a bit more disgusting.)

He was alone in it, though. The siblings were his friends, yes, but when it came to this extracurricular they were more like clients than partners. Neither of them was interested in the effort or the craft that went in to reallocating their baubles. But this Youko, someone who was obviously so skilled in this line of work…

_This is perfect, someone on my level._

How invaluable the information he could gather from such a master.

_I want to meet this man._ Kuronue thought, clawing at his pillows. _I have to meet him. _The urge, the curiosity, he was letting it get the better of him, he knew, but still…

_I need to meet him._

* * *

Kurama followed his escort, quietly marveling at the interior of Sōjōbō's home. 

_More like a palace. So this is what he's been doing with all the funds I have supplied him, eh? Not bad._

He walked behind the Pig and the old Wolf Grandmother—the Tanuki woman and Tengu guards following a respectful

_Fearful_

distance behind.

Kurama ignored them. At best, they were completely beneath his notice.

Sōjōbō's home, however, was more than interesting enough for his tastes. Whoever was charged with decorating the place had done a lovely job—the walls, shoji screens, even the beams and wood supports around the estate were lacquered, carved, painted, or hung with tapestries depicting various legends and historical events.

There were Tatami rooms now, as opposed to using Tatami as basic throw-rugs for futon and seats. Most of the rooms sported little furniture, but what each lacked in furnishings there was better effort put into decorations. Graceful Ikebana, elegant carved dolls and handsome calligraphy scrolls gave even more artful touches to alcoves and corners—while windows and painted screens gave the soft illusion of one being surrounded by nature.

The estate itself was a labyrinthine affair of twisting corridors and hallways; Kurama caught glimpses of hidden corridors and stairways. Latticework and alcove windows were almost obvious teases, letting one see just enough of the inner rooms to stir his curiosity before cutting off his line of sight altogether.

As he was guided deeper into the estate, he began to wonder just how many people actually _lived_ in this place.

_Let me see… I know he has three sons, two of them married. Obviously there are these lively escorts, and possibly a small personal guard. Servants, handmaidens for the ladies, and maybe a harem, if I know anything about Old Bird._

_So, at the very least twenty people._

_Gods, Old bird, is your house big enough?_

Kurama was slightly disgusted with his 'old friend.' Living comfortably was one thing, and being artistic certainly didn't detract from the place, but the obvious extravagance—it was somewhat sickening.

_I wonder how much land he destroyed to build out from the original Manse. _

_Bastard._

The journey came to an end somewhere on the other side of the planet… estate… in another of the extravagant staterooms littered about the place. A rather lovely woman

_Human? Kinfolk, maybe?_

Awaited him, all grace and propriety.

"My lord." She said, and bowed to him. "I have been instructed to entertain you until Lord Sōjōbō arrives."

Kurama nodded to her, and then blanked out everything she said completely. As she poured tea, he let his mind wander.

_Making me wait, huh. I suppose he thinks he's "cleverly and subtly" insulting me. Poor stupid thing, he has no concept of patience._

His thoughts were cut off as the Shoji opposite him slid open, revealing old Sōjōbō himself. He was dressed in formal Haori and Hakama, official dress of state and all the trimmings, wearing his 'human' form; his huge feathery wings folded behind him. He was almost the exact opposite of Kurama, who was dressed simply and comfortably for travel.

"Hello, old friend." Kurama said, trying to keep the smirk in his mind from reaching his face. "You look well."

Kurama smiled, Sōjōbō frowned.

_Let the games begin._

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_The new and much improved Immortal! Thank you to Katy for being a fantastic Beta. _

_The general plot has changed significantly; I will be posting shorter installments._

_Comments are very much appreciated, please let me know what you think!_


	2. Under Dust

Chapter Two.

* * *

It was going to be one of _those_ mornings again.

Kurama lay on his bed, staring at the light on his ceiling, and wished he didn't have anydeath on his memories. His mind has drifted into sleep the night before, and in that slow, languid, lucid dream, he had been with Kuronue again. Everything had been moderately peaceful; he had been in love. He was still in love. He had woken up reaching out for a man who would never be there again, and saying a name that no one would answer to. His first thought had been on where Kuronue had gone this morning, and when he would be back.

Hell, he could practically smell him, the memory was so strong.

_There are one thousand hells. I just happen to be in the one for those left behind by the ones they love._

It almost felt like betrayal, waking up and wanting him on those few still mornings where the sound of his voice still rang in Kurama's ears, and the memory of soft touches still tingled on his skin. They always came – thank god – the nights he slept alone. He would hate to see the hurt aftermath if he woke up next to one certain lover while calling another man's name.

But moving on… it was a difficult road, and maintenance sure as hell wasn't doing anything about the potholes.

Kurama rolled over on to his stomach and grabbed the clock by his bed. The digital readout blinked eight forty at him, and he felt like crying. He could sleep another three hours before he even needed to think about classes or anything, and he didn't need to visit his mother. He sighed, and dropped the clock onto the floor. He flopped down in place, half-off the side of the bed. He wondered if he should move to a more comfortable position, or at least a more dignified one.

_To hell with it. I don't need to impress anyone._

He left himself there, hanging off the edge of his barely-big-enough-for-two bed, in his luxurious apartment on the umpteenth floor of a complex that was lost in the ocean of glass and metal that was Tokyo, and decided that life was as good as it was ever going to get. Mostly alone in a sea of forgetfulness and progression save for himself and his little cat… speaking of which…

He slid a little farther off his bed and his head hit the floor; waist down he was still on the mattress, waist up vertical to the floorboards. He turned his head to look at Misa, the little kitten that had been a 'house-warming' gift from Kuwabara and Yukina; one of Eikichi's kittens. He smiled at her, and she came up to paw at his face.

"Hey beautiful, how're you doing?" He asked, reaching out and petting her back. She purred, and looked for the world as if she was the happiest cat who ever lived. Kurama sighed.

"I wish I could be as easily amused as you," he muttered at her. Misa simply purred back.

He contented himself with petting her for a few more moments before he rolled entirely off the bed with a resounding thump and disentangled himself from the sheets. From his inverted view of the room, he could see out the massive gaping maw of a window beside his bed the few other significantly tall buildings reaching their metallic fingers into the sky. Roppongi in the morning was about as spectacular as any other part of the city at any other time of day: metal, concrete, and glass towers hovered over the countless masses of people – human and otherwise – that commuted through the district at all hours of the day and night. Even fifteen floors above the cement and tar streets he could still catch the whiff of tires burning ever so slightly on the hot pavement, scorching for now, but sure to be soaked later if the heavy clouds to the north were any indication. He could smell the sewage bubbling underneath the city flowing to any number of treatment plants scattered throughout the districts. He could smell exhaust and sweat and low-emission gas, he could smell lighter fluid and the couple on the twenty-third floor who never seemed to get tired of each other. He could hear them too, which was almost as irritating as the woman on the twelfth floor who was letting her sister and her sister's brat child loaf around, neither of whom ever seemed to stop shouting at her for some reason or another.

It wasn't a bad place to live, though. The building was in the middle of Roppongi and the apartment itself was absurdly spacious by Japanese standards. But for the four hundred thousand yen a month that he wasn't paying to stay there, it was worth it. Yomi had insisted that Kurama live somewhere that was both indicative of his position as advisor and general, as well as being more comfortable to visit. Kurama didn't complain at all when Yomi had tossed him the pamphlet that someone – he wasn't sure exactly who – had smuggled to him.

"It has been suggested that this would be the place for you," he said coolly. "As long as it isn't that box you've situated yourself in or your mother's home, I don't care."

"It is expensive," Kurama had answered, thumbing through the pamphlet. 'Pacific Tower,' only forty-five minutes at the most from Toudai, not too far a walk from the Metro Library, right by three major tram lines… in a word: Perfect. Not even mentioning the _other_ universities and museums that practically fortified the place, the foreign embassies (which would no doubt provide ample entertainment on those quiet days when he wasn't in study or plotting the slow, humiliating deaths of Yomi's enemies) and the parks.

"Is it to your liking?" Yomi had asked. He didn't fidget, not like he had long ago, but Kurama knew that somewhere in the back of his mind the old Yomi was crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently, occasionally casting dark glares through eyes that couldn't see.

"It is…expensive." Kurama said again, giving Yomi the sweetest smile he could muster. Yomi, of course, couldn't see it, and even if he could there was a fifty percent chance it would have been taken the wrong way.

"Do not be immature, Kurama. I am asking if you want it or not, I am not asking for a price." He tilted his head in a way that Kurama had learned to equate with an irritated sigh and a rolling of the eyes.

As much as he liked to, it would have been unwise to tease him further. The last time Yomi had tried to give him a gift he hadn't backed down and accepted soon enough, and Yomi hadn't really forgiven him for both the refused gift and refused 'contingency plan to win back Kurama's affection.'

Not that Yomi had actually _called_it that. Not out loud, at least. Kurama, of course, knew that if he said anything about it Yomi would call it 'testing his loyalty' or something absurd like that. So he kept his mouth shut.

It was getting much harder to bite his tongue now though, especially since he had the sneaking suspicion that Yomi wanted him to have the apartment because the Palace was too public and Kurama's old apartment too plebian for Yomi to even consider propositioning him.

Or, he could be reading too far between the lines.

He doubted that was the case, though. And where Yomi was concerned, Kurama was rarely wrong.

"Well?" Yomi had pressed, leaning in what he thought was a nonchalant way against the table.

"It's shiny," Kurama said, not bothering to suppress his grin. "You know how I do so adore shiny things." He saw Yomi's eyebrow twitch just the tiniest bit, and this time covered his grin with his hand.

"You will never change," was all he said before turning to leave the room. It was less than a week later that Kurama received the acceptance letter in the mail, and even less time after that before he was all moved in.

And, as usual, he hadn't been wrong about Yomi at all. His first visit was burned into Kurama's mind permanently, for more reasons than the obvious. He'd laughed so hard when Yuemi, one of the girls who worked the reception desk, had taken it upon herself to escort the 'Tragically blind, tragically handsome businessman' all the way to Kurama's apartment. Yomi had taken it all in stride, politely letting her feel like she'd done a good deed. There was no need for an escort, of course. He always knew how to find Kurama.

It was almost sweet. It was frightening. It was a tourniquet for loneliness, but like all things, it only lasted so long. Now his visits became less and less frequent, and even then part of the time it was a brief check-in or lunch – Yomi had acquired a taste for human food, specifically sukiyaki – the occasional all-night stay… but never too long. Maybe he didn't want to become too attached. Maybe he was growing bored.

_Maybe I care too much about something that's beyond my control. How… human of me._

Maybe it was just the heat. He always got depressed during the summer. Summer in Tokyo was always either too hot or too wet to bear. He'd rather spend the hottest months in Kyoto; at least there the trees and plants were mostly untouched by human filth. Not the temples, though. They'd become dirty and inhospitable to anything that could actually feel spiritual energy. He often wondered if humans had any inkling as to just how angry the gods were at them.

He wondered if the only ones who really cared about such things were Kuwabara and Hinageshi.

He wondered if he should get up and do something.

_Anything._

In a way, the phone call had saved him. It was a ringtone he didn't recognize, but it was distinctive and reminded him of old songs that only the most aged of grandparents still vaguely remembered _their_grandparents singing. The first thought that ran through his head was of that drama series he sometimes watched about people dying after receiving phone calls with mysterious ringtones. His second thought was that maybe he changed the tone and didn't remember doing it. He almost didn't answer, but either curiosity or belligerent disrespect for his own superstition made him push up off the floor and grab the cell phone from off of its charger and flip it open, breathing out a hasty "Minamino speaking."

He didn't think he recognized the voice.

"Ark Hills. Kokusaikoryu Kikin Library. Travel section. Discovery Tokyo City Guide. Page fifteen, line nine, quote by Shimada Masahiko. Page one-hundred thirty-one. The note is for you."

Then, a breath, and a sound that was, presumably, the sound of a phone being set to its cradle. He would have liked to say something, anything, but the voice was gone, replaced by the dull, dead and listless dial tone.

Ark Hills… not very far away. The Library was comprised mostly of English books for foreigners staying in the area. Shimada Masahiko was a novelist, if he recalled correctly.

"_Yumetsukai…_ We had to translate passages for English in senior year…" He murmured, still staring at the phone in his hand. He'd hated that project, or rather, the book. It wasn't badly written, but the story itself…

He set the phone down and turned to his closet, throwing open the doors and grabbing a light shirt and a serviceable pair of pants from the hangers and tossing them on the bead. He was halfway through his underwear drawer before he stopped to think about what exactly he was planning to do.

"I've just received a phone call from an unidentified source." He said, telling himself that he was telling Misa, who was currently fast asleep on his windowsill. "Whoever he was – at least, I think it's a he – wants me to go to Kokusaikoryu in Ark Hills. Apparently there's a book that I absolutely need to read." He spared another glance at Misa, who flicked her tail and yawned at him.

"I'm glad you're as concerned about this as I am. Now, you see that my dilemma is one: I have no idea who this person is, and two: This may be some kind of trap laid by any number of my or Yomi's enemies. Or Yuusuke's, or, for that matter, one of Hiei's even though I haven't seen him since I graduated. So, realistically, it would either be one of mine or one of Yomi's." He wrenched open his sock drawer, which for some reason always stuck, and rummaged around for something light before continuing.

"If I go to the library and pick up that book, I could possibly be getting myself into some kind of trouble." He stripped off his pajamas and grabbed the fresh clothes. "If I don't go to the library, I'll never know why that person called me or what note is in the book I'm supposed to find." Clothed, he sat on the bed and tapped his chin. "So really, there's no choice, wouldn't you say?" Misa rolled onto her stomach and said nothing, Kurama nodded. "I thought you'd say that. Don't worry, I'm not going in there blind, at least." He stood and picked her up off the windowsill, carrying her off into the kitchen.

"Now, fair lady, it is the time for sustenance."

* * *

He amazed himself, really. No one would be foolish enough to challenge him in public, surely, and in a library no less. Still, he felt a stirring of unease as he stood just inside the lobby for the Kokisaikoryu Library, letting his awareness slip from one human to another, testing and re-testing to make _absolutely_ sure none of them were demons or assassins or something along those lines. He knew it was silly to worry. A library of this size wasn't private enough nor public enough for a murder, especially not at this time of day. But still… it never hurt to make sure.

Satisfied that no one was in the immediate business of his demise, he moved through the building, making his way expediently to the travel section.

The book wasn't that hard to find; it was one of those glossy-covered pocket-sized comprehensive travel guides, complete with maps (which had either been lost or stolen) and all kinds of glamorous pictures of stereotypical Japanese life. To wit, the surface that all foreigners wanted to see. He opened to the copyright page.

"Made in America. Oh joy and rapture." He muttered, examining the first few pages. He never liked American English, but that may have been due to all his English professors being from the U.K. or Australia. And that one madwoman from New Zealand. Hadn't she been a stunt woman before she started teaching?

Inconsequential. He was here for a reason. He was letting his mind wander far too much these days.

'_Page fifteen, line nine, quote by Shimada Masahiko.'_

He flipped to the appropriate page, and counted down the lines.

…wrote "Things that happened yesterday are already covered with shifting sand.

Last month's events are completely hidden. The year before is twenty meters

under, and things that happened five years ago are fossils."

He read the quote over again, once…twice.

He remembered something Kuronue said, once.

"_We live in a land of forgetfulness, now. The humans strive for change, more change, the new, the future. They're never content, and they're dragging us into it. Even legends are being forgotten._"

'Even legends.' What he had predicted fifty years ago was still true today. No one who wasn't a demon knew the stories of the Youko thief and the Tengu prince who terrorized the royal family for two generations with their thievery anymore. Humans had no interest in the past, no matter how hard the previous generations tried to keep tradition going.

Gods and Demons were being forgotten – people lost their interest in the earth the moment a man walked on the moon. Once he left the human world, he would be forgotten also.

Once they had been struck down, the entire world had proceeded to forget about them. They weren't even fairytales anymore.

"_Page 131. The note is for you."_

He flipped pages again and a piece of pristine white printer paper fluttered out from between the pages. He snatched it from the air and turned it over in his hands.

Blank.

No, not completely. Tiny script written in a light hand dominated the bottom left corner.

Toyokawa, Takekoma, Fushimi Inari

Make an offering at the main temples.

Go alone. This is not for outsiders.

-Setsumaru

All fox shrines, all devoted to Inari. All shrines sacred to Kitsune.

Toyokawa was the closest, just a short train ride away. Takekoma was a bit more difficult to get to, being all the way in Miyagi. Fushimi Inari was a trip too, he'd have to take a bunch of transfers just to get to Kyoto.

That is, of course, if he actually obeyed the letter and went there.

"This is not for outsiders." So… another Kitsune? The name was unfamiliar, he was sure he'd have remembered someone with a name like 'Setsumaru.'

He so enjoyed puzzles, and really, if he skipped class for the day it would be an interesting day trip.

_No, wait… physics test. Can't make it up, either. Fujiwara-Sensei is strict about that._

He glanced around for a clock. The one he spotted read 10:01… he had three hours until class.

Plenty of time to go to Toyokawa.

* * *

Kurama had expected something more spectacular to happen. After the library, he'd hopped on the first train on the Namaboku line he could catch, and less than twenty minutes later he was at the stone bridge that crossed over to the shrine itself.

There were tourists _everywhere,_ but that was to be expected. Most of them looked like high school or college students, presumably on their summer break. He never really understood the fabled three months off that he'd been told western students were allowed, but if they wanted to squander all that time they could go right ahead. The tourist industry was good for the area anyway. Irritating, sure, but it wasn't Kurama's problem. It didn't bother him the way it bothered Yuusuke and Kuwabara, who often complained about irritating foreigners, especially high school girls who, apparently, were all completely insane, almost as bad as western anime otaku.

Kurama's opinion was that all humans were a bit crazy anyway, so he never debated about it.

He slunk past a group of high-schoolers who were snapping pictures of the Kitsune statues and ducked someone – probably their teacher – who was waving his hands around yelling something along the lines of "You can't take pictures! It's _sacred!_"

Kurama stifled a little laugh and wove through the crowds to the purification fountain, which was surrounded by a great circle of nobody. It didn't surprise him, he saw very few locals around. Most of the tourists were walking and snapping pictures of the Tori-i gates and the Kitsune statues, or milling around the souvenir shops in front of the temple. After he rinsed his hands and mouth, he took another glance around and headed to the offering hall.

Here, too was mostly lacking in visitors. On one end he saw a woman guiding one of the foreign students through the offering and praying process, but for the most part this area was quiet. The foreigner seemed enthusiastic, anyway. He watched them until the student – he couldn't tell the gender – was finished praying and they walked away. He heard the student mumble something about how cool temples were and smiled. At least someone could appreciate the place. As soon as they were out of sight, he went through the process himself.

Bow twice, clap twice, bow, pray, ring the bell. He didn't have need for prayers now, instead he sent a little gratitude to Inari; he and the white Kitsune would be working overtime this season. After, he felt the divine swell of gratitude and something akin to 'you never visit me anymore!' …And nothing else.

He had expected something more… well, something. Inari seemed grateful anyway, and that was reward enough in itself, but really, what had all that accomplished? He glanced around the offering hall and found nothing. An older couple came by to pray and give offerings, so he stepped aside. Maybe he _had_ to offer at all three temples for something to happen?

Maybe another fox was playing a prank on him. It wasn't uncommon, really, he just hadn't really heard from anyone on that spectrum since he started working for Yomi. In fact, he hadn't really even felt the divine touch since the Ankoku… and that had been almost six years ago. He wasn't the biggest devotee when it came to honoring the parent gods, but he didn't shirk his duties either… he just didn't have much time in between school, work and Yomi to go to temple more than once every few months.

Suddenly, he felt like a very, very bad son. The feeling only lasted for an instant, though. It was hard to feel unsettled when basking in divine love, even for the few seconds he had. It was refreshing, like rain after a long draught. He bowed again and promised Inari he'd visit more often, and then made his way back to the train station.

* * *

He managed to squeeze in a quick lunch before making it to class exactly two seconds before Fujiwara-Sensei slammed the door shut. He spotted Kaito, who nodded briefly at him, before taking his seat by the window. He flipped open his test booklet, and it was all he could do to keep from groaning.

**1: Using Planck's law, Take the derivative with respect to frequency to find the extremum of the specific intensity. Where **_**h**_** is Planck's constant, **_**c**_** is the speed of light, **_**k**_** is Boltzmann's constant, and **_**t**_** is the temperature.**

_**d/dvV**__** 3**__**[e**__**hv/(kT)**__**-1**__**-1**_

**Continue solution.**

Thermodynamics. Oh, joy, oh rapture.

* * *

The break after the test was a lifesaver. Whatever had convinced him to go into Quantum Mechanics… he didn't know. Why not biology or psychology? No, he had to do something _different._ At least there was money in it, theoretically, even though he didn't really need it.

He rested his head on his desk and waited for Kaito to come over and whine.

Once again, he wasn't disappointed.

"I don't understand why _I_ need to take physics. This is more your area of expertise." Kurama massaged his temples and did his best to smile encouragingly.

"Believe me, Yuu, I'm starting to regret my decision."

"Did you even understand question four? It figures that something that obscure would be on such an unlucky number."

"You and your word puns. That was Thermat's Theorum." He grabbed his notebook and scratched out the equation. ' xn ynzn' "It's only true when n 2. We covered it sometime forever ago, I think. At least he didn't shove the gravitational force or Schrödinger's equation in there. I think we would have seen brains exploding all over the place."

"From people thinking too hard, or the two of us going on a mass killing spree?"

"A little of both, I think. But I thought you hated violence?" Kurama quirked an eyebrow at Kaito, who shrugged.

"I figure desperate times call for desperate measures. I can still go for a doctorate while in prison, I think."

Kurama nodded, and put his notebook back in his bag.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" he asked, heading towards the door. Fujiwara wouldn't mind if they left early, they'd finished their tests in plenty of time. The slower kids were all in another room, finishing up.

"Not thinking about physics, for the most part. I thought I'd harass Yuusuke into giving me a free meal. Interested in coming along?"

Kurama thought about it a minute. He had no more classes today, so there were no specific obligations on his head. However, there was no time to go to the other temples today, not if he wanted to get home at a respectable time.

And the opportunity to antagonize Yuusuke was far too sweet to ignore. They rarely saw much of each other these days, really. It was long past time for a friendly visit.

"Sure. I'm certain he'd _love_ to provide for us. Besides, it's not like he doesn't owe one of us a meal anyway." Kaito sniggered at the comment. "Not after we've kept him out of trouble so long."

* * *

TBC

1-22-08

Thank you to Mistress-of-Muses, who is a wonderful beta, Blueutopiah, Windswift, Sekah,Shika and Chrislea for not letting me give up on this project.

All locations and books referenced in this chapter do exist, a little googling and you should find them.

Setsumaru is not in any shape, way or form to be confused with Sesshomaru. This is not an Inu-Yasha crossover.


	3. Opinion

Chapter Three

* * *

It turned out they hadn't been the only ones looking for a free meal from Yuusuke.

As soon as Kurama and Kaito turned the corner near the stand, they could clearly hear Kuwabara and Yuusuke trying to shout over each other on…some topic or another. It was mostly comprised of half sentances and garbled references that neither of them could really understand.

"Yeah, but then you-"  
"I _said_it was!"  
"Well, were they _dead?"_  
"Well, no, but…"  
"HAH. See? SEE? Now give me my ramen!"

Kurama spared a glance at Kaito, who grinned and motioned for him to go first.

"Why always me?" He asked, casting him an insincere glare.

"You've known them longer, for one. For two, if projectiles begin to fly, you make an excellent shield."

"Gee, thanks." Kurama pushed aside the curtain and bowed in. But before he could get out as much as a 'hello,'

"Not you, too!" Yuusuke wailed. "Is it official mooch off Urameshi day? Because if this is some kind of sick holiday, I want the day off!"

"Hi to you too." Kurama said, taking a seat. He waved at Keiko, who was moving around in the very back of the 'stand.'

"Lunch is on the house!" She called out, before ducking back into a pile of boxes. Yuusuke groaned and rolled his eyes. He waved his hands at them to sit down and moved to grab more noodles.

"You guys are freaking parasites." He mumbled, turning away. Kurama caught a brief smile before his face was obscured by steam from the stove, and nodded.

"We live off of you, Urameshi. If it wasn't for you, we'd all be dead." He ducked the spoon aimed for his head and moved to another seat, farther out of Yuusuke's immediate reach. Kuwabara choked on his mouthful of noodles and Kaito smothered a laugh.

"That's gratitude for you." Yuusuke muttered. "If it's not slaving away saving the world, it's slaving away over a hot stove for you punks."

"At least Yana isn't here," Kaito supplied "you know he eats twice as much as any of us." There was a brief mumble of agreement between slurps from Kuwabara, and Yuusuke sighed.

"That's true." He turned back to Keiko. "Chicken for Yuu and _Tantanmen_ for Kurama, okay?" Keiko's arm shot up signaling a thumbs-up before disappearing among the boxes again.

Kurama watched him cook, resting his chin on folded hands.

"This seems to suit you much better than ruling over us unscrupulous and nasty demons." He said, smiling. "Although I never would have pegged you for a cook."

"He's not _that_ good a cook." Kuwabara muttered, downing the last of his noodles in a large gulp "but he'd be impossible to live with if he really was a king."

"You don't actually have to live with him." Keiko interjected, handing ingredients over to Yuusuke, who had a sour look on his face. "He's impossible to bear most of the time anyway, when he's not being cuddly and unassuming." She mimed a punch at him lovingly before disappearing into the back again.

"Cuddly and unassuming?" Kurama repeated. Had he heard right? _Their_ Yuusuke, demon punk lord, _cuddly_ and _unassuming?_ He almost said something, but Kaito was choking to death on his drink, so there were more pressing issues at hand. But oh, he was going to save the veritable torrent of comebacks for later. There was always opportunity for snarking when Yuusuke was around.

"Thank you, darling, for reinforcing my self esteem. Really." Yuusuke grumbled, stabbing at the pot and glaring darkly at his friends, daring them to say anything. All three did their best to look innocent.

"Anyway..." Yuusuke said, flipping some vegetables into the broth "what have you all been up to?"

Kuwabara and Kaito both turned to look at Kurama, who sighed.

"Again, why always me?"

"Because," Kuwabara said, handing his bowl over to Yuusuke "Nobody sees you around anymore, except Kaito."  
"The only one we see less of is Hiei." Kaito added, smiling. Kurama wrinkled his nose at them, and gave in.

"I'm going to Miyagi tomorrow, I think; then to Kyoto. I have to visit the old Inari temples." Yuusuke and Kaito stared at him blankly, Kuwabara nodded.

"Kitsune business, am I right?"

Kurama thought on it a moment and nodded. The note had said to go alone; it hadn't said anything about not discussing his plans.

"Yes, you could say that. I've been… less than diligent where that is concerned, so I thought I'd make up for it by visiting the larger temples." They seemed comfortable with that answer, and he steered them away from the subject. They talked of mostly nothing until the food came.

He hid a smile. Yuusuke was a better cook than any of them gave him credit for.

--

Home, finally, and the heat was oppressive. The rain had broken only a few minute after he got in, and now it drummed against the windows, a soft and comforting percussion. It was early in the evening, but he felt sleepy already. Misa yowled at him once and fell back asleep at her customary spot on the windowsill, stretched out like a bony black rug.

"Looks like you have the right idea, Miss Kitty." He said. He tossed his keys on the counter and flopped over onto the couch. He'd almost fell asleep when his cell phone started beeping at him. He groaned and pushed himself off the couch – he'd left it in his bedroom this morning.

After the inevitable and completely unintentional baptism of Kido, Kaito and Yanagisawa as Reikai detectives, they had loudly and collectively protested the use of the compacts. Kido and Hiei were of the opinion that they didn't like being treated like delivery boys, everyone else agreeing with the side note that a: Flowers were not good décor for heavy duty detective work (no matter how appealing a certain human organization made that seem) and b: Compacts were easily breakable, conspicuous and… girly.

Easily breakable and girly didn't matter much to Kurama. The pink notwithstanding, the flowers painted on the back were rather pretty. But the few and horrifying occasions where any member of his family had stumbled upon him talking into a little mirror were enough to sway his opinion. Kazuya and Shuuichi already thought he was weird, and people looked at his mother sideways enough due to his 'unconventional habits.' Habits here meaning his suspicious lack of girlfriend, mysterious disappearances, stubborn refusal to cut his hair, and his 'unhealthy obsession with flowers.' Hayama and Shuuichi already suspected he 'wasn't quite right,' having them think he was either horridly vain or certifiable was just another complication he didn't want. At least his mother didn't seem to mind.

So, cell phones. Kurama's was a newer model, sleek black with a Fushimi Inari fox keychain dangling from the strap on top of it. Normal calls and the phone would light up blue, anything from Reikai, green. And while nobody outside of Yuusuke knew it, occasionally the little buttons on the face would light up red. Those were from Yomi.

He caught the glow as soon as he entered the room and smiled.

Yomi.

"I was just thinking of you." He said by way of answer. He heard a soft chuckle on the other line.

"Should I be worried? One never knows the sinister workings of thine evil mind." Yomi answered, his gentle tone taking any sting away from his words.

"No, I was just reminiscing. I was about to fall asleep, anyway." He walked back into the living room, and to the kitchen. One bowl of ramen a day wasn't exactly enough fare to keep him going and healthy, so it was high time he raided the fridge, which was depressingly empty "Is there something wrong? Do you need my presence back home?"

'Back home…' what a joke. He barely considered Gandara his home anymore, much less any other part of Makai. Every bit of space he had carved out for himself—and subsequently whoever followed him—was just antique real estate to him now.

"You know you are always welcome here," Yomi began, as if reading his thoughts "but that is not the reason I've contacted you."

The fridge was empty but for a loaf of bread and a slew of condiments; he'd neglected shopping lately to make sure his studies were in order. Take-out had been enough for a while, but how he longed for a home-cooked meal. He grabbed two slices of bread from the loaf and popped them into the toaster, kicking the door shut with his foot with a loud slam.

"What was that noise?" Yomi asked. He sounded uncharacteristically concerned.

"An empty stomach is not becoming of the commanding general and vizier of the great and powerful Yomi." Kurama answered, rummaging through the cupboards "I am rectifying this by making toast."

"You should take better care of yourself, Kurama." Yomi said, his voice soft. Kurama grinned – he only worried about things that were valuable in their prime. What an honor.

"Then what, exactly, inspired your call? I have the feeling this is more than a social ring. Unless, of course, you just missed the sound of my voice." He teased. There was a chuckle on the other end, and he heard the very faint rustle of paper on the other line, fingers stroking Braille-imprinted parchment.

"Your safety, to be blunt. Thoroughly, one of my oracles has brought it to my attention that you are under divine scrutiny."

Kurama suppressed his own laugh. Whoever he was, the Setsumaru person who had been sending him the notes was making sure that whatever scrutiny he was under would soon be rectified.

"I hope this has nothing to do with Inari. I went to temple today, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary."

"The results of the reading were not specific. Only your name connected to_a_ divine power, pertaining to some sort of event or disaster. I suggest you keep in close touch with your god and try not to do anything… reckless."

"When am I ever reckless?" There, in the back of the cabinet, was a can of sardines he must have missed earlier. He climbed onto the counter and grabbed them just as the toast popped up. "everything I do is, quote, 'a calculated and expert stratagem.'"

"You_are _ reckless, Kurama. Please, for my sake, attend carefully to your well-being. I must go, but I will call again." Kurama heard the dial-tone before he could even utter a quick 'good-bye.' He sighed and set the cell phone down, snapping it closed.

Yomi rarely worried about anything these days. It had been years since any real threat had come to their little group, nothing more than the few rogue low-class demons who thought they could run all over the new laws that Reikai and the Makai Lords had put in place. Otherwise, peace. Boring, quiet peace.

Kurama munched on his makeshift dinner and wandered over to the windows, pulling aside the curtains to look down on the city.

Like it or not, this was his home now, and it would be until the day his human body died.

"Deal with it." He muttered to himself, taking a large bite from the bread and situating himself on the window seat. Misa meowed at him, absolutely affronted that he'd dare to enter her personal space, and climbed onto his lap. He stroked her fur, staring down at the swimming lights of the city while he finished his measly little meal, wondering if this was how life was going to stay forever. The blinking lights below held no answer for him, of course; so he finished eating, dumped himself onto the couch, and fell asleep.

Thinking about the future could wait one more day.

* * *

Youko had never been too terribly impressed with Sōjōbō. When the bird had been a child, he'd been reckless bordering on stupid, and had such ludicrous dreams of grandeur. He was the product of Nepotism, the oldest and therefore favored son of his father, Daranibō of Mount Fuji. Daranibō had been a genius, and had gathered more territory for the Tengu than any other before his time, including precious territory from Youko himself, half of Kurama mountain. Youko had respected Daranibō, for all that he hated him with a burning, vengeful rage. No one before him had ever had the gall to try and wrestle territory from his claws, and he'd succeeded very well.

Sōjōbō, however, was an entirely different story. He'd been of the opinion that, if his father was great, the greatness must obviously have passed onto him, and that he could easily take the rest of the mountain from Youko. And oh, how very wrong he had been. He'd returned home beaten, humiliated, and one of only ten of his retinue still alive. The other four-hundred some-odd Kotengu and lesser youkai that had foolishly accompanied him decomposing into fertilizer.

Their second encounter, however, had not gone as well for either of them. Youko suppressed a grimace, best not to think about that.

But even so, even after all of that, here they were. Not, for once, at each other's throats.

"We have never been on good terms…" Sōjōbō began, ruffling his feathers. "But I believe that with a little incentive, we might be able to each enjoy the benefits of a certain power over the humans that have begun to plague the mountain."

Kurama sipped at his tea and said nothing. Sōjōbō paused a moment before beginning again.

"As you no doubt noticed, their cities are growing, and they've been moving their homes farther up the mountain. Now, the priests we can handle through fear, mostly, and the commoners don't bother us much, but the ones they consider to be nobility are becoming very pretentious in their belief that they can 'handle' us, as it were."

"That's your own fault for teaching a _human_ your sword techniques." Kurama said, setting his cup down. "I would expect you to leave me out of your petty affairs, Sōjōbō. Your father was smart enough to do so, at least." He wouldn't pull any punches, this time. The last encounter he'd endured with Sōjōbō had been less than profitable for him, and he still owed the Tengu a few good knocks for that transgression.

"I expected you'd say something of that nature." Sōjōbō sneered. Kurama suppressed a sigh and waited for him to continue. "Might I remind you that there is still a matter of debt in this little situation of ours."

Kurama's eyes had wandered as Sōjōbō spoke, but now he snapped his gaze back to the Tengu's face.

"_Debt?_ What, exactly, do you consider me in _debt_to you for? As I recall, the last time we had a little 'meeting,' you walked away with the better end of the bargain." Kurama folded his hands into his sleeves to hid his aggravation and looked away. "If anything, it's _you_ who owes_ me._ At least the damage _I_ caused was reparable."

Sōjōbō sniffed at him and poured another cup of tea for himself. "That is partially true. While I did break your jewel, it was a small fracture at least…"

"A 'small fracture' has kept me tied to this plane for one hundred years thus far, Sōjōbō. Because of you, I'll be _stuck_ here another millenium. Here, your neighbor, unless I feel it necessary to move, which I highly doubt will ever be the case." Sōjōbō stared at him, eyes large.

"What do you mean by _that?_" he asked. He leaned forward, setting aside the cup "Do you mean to say that you've stayed in the human realm out of spite or because-"

"Because since you broke my jewel, no matter how small the fracture, I _can not_ return to the demon world until the piece you broke off is restored, or a thousand years has passed." Kurama turned his wrist and the red spherical gem appeared in his hand. It glowed, ever so slightly, from within, and a white hot line of light marred one side, bursting into a small corona where a tiny chunk of the gem was missing. Sōjōbō leaned in close, his eyes wide and bright. Kurama allowed him to stare at the jewel for a minute before twisting his hand again and making it disappear. Sōjōbō leaned back again, looking contemplative.

"I believe you tell me this because you expect me to rectify this problem of yours." He murmured. "I also believe I may have a solution that could work to both our advantages."

* * *

Kuronue hadn't needed to wait too terribly wrong until Kimidori fell asleep, and when he did, it was a simple matter to sneak out of his room and into the long corridors that snaked their way through the mansion. Here, his father's apartments. He was probably entertaining that fox in the main hall by now; mother was either with him or in the garden, so he would have no problem sneaking in for just a second.

He slid open the door and glanced around his father's office. He kept maps of the mountain territory stored behind his desk somewhere, and among those maps would probably, _hopefully_, be a map into this Youko fellow's territory. All that came after that was the quick job of sneaking there, taking something invaluable from his home, and confronting him later with a proposition for partnership. In a word: Brilliant.

As he suspected, the office was empty. His father's desk was neat as always, and the maps were rolled up in the same drawer he had always kept them in. The only problem here was that there were more than just a small few; he had maps of the region, the island, and the entire country as it stood from the beginning of his reign to present, which meant new maps drawn up every half century or century, which meant a lot of searching. Thankfully, the newer maps were on top (for the most part) and easily distinguishable from the rest.

After three tries, he found the one he was looking for. He rolled up the parchment and put the rest of the maps back where he'd found them. He stretched as he stood up and glanced around the room; a flash of red in the candlelight struck his eye.

It looked like a tiny bit of red glass – expensive – that glowed red from the center and soft white at the sharp-looking edges. He went closer to it, examining it from all angles. It rested on a black cloth, glowing in its own light. The cloth itself, upon closer inspection, was blessed as a warding cloth by some deity he couldn't recollect ever hearing of before. However, unlike most accessories of that nature, it wasn't to keep anyone _away_from it. Instead, it looked like a ward to keep power or whatever _within_the shard itself. It wasn't glass, he didn't think. It looked more like highly-polished crystal than anything else; rare and valuable. And that light! Even when he stood shading the fragment from the candles it shone like a small scarlet star, glittering like a gem, however un-faceted. It was mesmerizing. So much so that if he hadn't heard his father's voice and the sound of footsteps on the veranda he might have been caught just staring at the thing. He quietly thanked the spirit of the human carpenter who built the manse for inventing the idea of floors that creaked loud enough for people to know who was around. He folded the shard up in the cloth, feeling the tiny tingle of power as the fabric touched his hands, and fled the room.

Instead of going back to his apartment, like planned, he detoured around to the _other_ side of his father's office, what Kuronue and his brothers jokingly referred to as the 'assassin door.' It was a tiny alcove like a closet connected to the main hall, just large enough for one person with hidden doors on each side: One to the hall and another opening into his father's office. There was enough of a 'window' for whoever it was who happened to be utilizing the hidey-hole to see what was going on in either room. He leaned into the hideaway and kept his eyes out of the light, listening for his father and whoever was with him.

"After our altercation," He could hear his father's voice from outside just barely competing with the creaking of footsteps and the heavy rain "I had volunteers search the area for any leftovers from the battle. You know, lost weapons, bits of armor, bodies we may have missed."

"I never knew you were such a pack rat," came a second voice, cold and low.

_Holy... is that the Youko's voice? He sounds so young!_ He leaned forward just a tiny bit when he heard the screen door slide open.

"Indeed, at that point you'd destroyed enough of the place that we were willing to recycle anything we could find." His father answered, his tone light for the subject.

"There is no better teacher than hardship, as your grandfather once said." The Youko answered; his voice seemed to warm just a little. Kuronue strained to see him, but he was still just out of his sight.

"You_would _bring that up." Sōjōbō muttered. The Youko laughed.

"You deserve it and you know it, little brat." The Youko moved into the room, and into Kuronue's line of sight.

He was _beautiful._

He was dressed plain, for travel, dusty and slightly ragged clothes that were both out of fashion and definitely the type of outfit one would see on a traveler from China or Korea, but expertly tailored to his form. He was tall and pale with smooth, sharp features, and his long hair – silver – was pulled into a horsetail at the nape of his neck. His ears and tail would twitch every so often, but aside from that he was still as he watched Sōjōbō move about the room. There was a single, terrifying moment when his glowing golden eyes slid over the eyehole. On their end of the room, it looked like an ordinary shadow from the decorative wood paneling, but as a thief, wouldn't the Youko notice the difference? A slight difference in color, maybe a glint of light off of Kuronue's eyes… anything could give him away now. He leaned back and held his breath as he watched those eyes narrow just the slightest bit. The Youko then turned away and addressed Sōjōbō, who had suddenly gone very quiet. Kuronue barely heard him whisper,

"It is gone…" Kuronue could hear his father moving around frantically "It was here, just before you came, it was _just here._"

Kuronue's hand tightened around the cloth.

"What was? Don't tell me you…"  
"We found something that could have been part of that jewel." Sōjōbō said, his voice frantic. "I had the priest from Kuramadera put a ward on in case anyone got wise and tried to steal it." There was a pause and more shuffling around. Sōjōbō paced back and forth in front of the peephole, the Youko stood with arms crossed; watching him, eyes cold.

"So not only did you break my jewel, you then keep the piece that you_ think _you broke from it away from me for almost… two centuries, has it been? But you suddenly just happen to lose it?" the Youko shook his head and turned away. "As much… fun as this has been, Sōjōbō, I have no time for your silly games. Maybe when you grow up we can play." Before Sōjōbō could protest, the Youko was out the door and gone out into the darkness.

Kuronue heard his father snarl something angry and incoherent, and finally storm out of the office, calling for Ruko. He trembled, clutching the cloth in his hands. Opportunities like this so seldom knocked these days. He waited until he could hear no more of his angry shouts and snuck out of the hideaway and into the hall. He moved quickly and quietly back to his room, sneaking past the still-sleeping Kimidori, and into the back bedroom of his apartment. There, he opened the closet where his futon was stored away and climbed atop the stacked mattresses and blankets to tug at a loose, almost un-noticeable piece of string from the ceiling of the closet. The plaster pulled away to reveal another of the mansion's many hidey-holes and storage areas. It was there that he placed the map and the tiny gem shard, which he unfolded from the cloth for only the briefest of seconds to revel in its beautiful glow. Satisfied that they were safely hidden, he closed up the plaster 'door' and climbed out of his closet, dragging the futon and blankets with him.

He made up his own bed and Kimidori's, all the while plotting his next move. The Youko didn't believe his father's claims that the piece of his jewel had been found, but he knew better. He would give it a day, two at the most, for his father to stew over it and toss blame at whoever was present. After that he was sure that his mother would calm Sōjōbō down and the whole fiasco would be attributed to someone being careless while cleaning or some sort, and then forgotten. _Then_ having by then memorized the map and returned it to his father's desk without incident, Kuronue would fly to the Youko's territory and offer him the shard in exchange for an alliance. At the very least an agreement to join him on a heist or two! And if the Youko refused…

Kuronue paused. What if he _did_ refuse? Youko was strong enough to take on his father and an entire retinue, what if he decided to just _take_ the thing and to hell with some stupid bird's deals?

Run like hell, that's what he'd do. Maybe if he flew long and hard enough he'd be able to wear the Youko down enough to have him listen. Yes, a good plan. Not a great one, by any means, but he'd just have to hope that Plan A would be enough to pique Youko's interest.

He patted down the blankets and went to get Kimidori so to put him to bed. As he lay down later on his own futon, he knew it was foolish to imagine that he'd be able to sleep. It wasn't until the sun began to climb its way over the horizon that he drifted off, the vision of beautiful golden eyes gazing into his own.

* * *

03-02-2008

This chapter is posted. 3

Tantanmen is spicy beef ramen, really good stuff. This chapter was originally twice as long, but I've decided to slice it here to keep the chapter length somewhat even.

Chapter Four will hopefully be up sometime in the next two or three weeks. Sorry for the long wait!


	4. Sales Pitch

Chapter 4

* * *

Youko sighed as he climbed the last of the steps up to his home, a far more modest parody of Sōjōbō's insanely sprawling manse.

He had moved here three centuries ago, after he had neutralized Yomi and disbanded the remaining thieves that had survived that assault. The few that still lived rarely visited him, which was just as well. He didn't need their ghosts haunting him anymore. He could do just fine on his own. He itched to glance behind him now that he was on home territory, and safe. Something still bothered him now, after the long trek from Sōjōbō's estate had been conspicuously uneventful.

There were eyes in that room.

Grey eyes, the color of dark stormclouds. He paused at the heavy front doors of his home and looked over his shoulder, knowing full well he couldn't see the manse for all the trees. The rain had ebbed and now drizzled quietly, whispering among the leaves. He let his power touch the flora surrounding his territory just the slightest bit, having it spread a mile in each direction. If anyone followed, he would know. For now, though, he was home. Home, safe, and alone.

Before he had left for Korea, he'd hired a little Kitsune girl to come in and clean the place out for him every so often, and it looked like she'd been over in at least the past week. While the house was cold, it was dry and the windows and heavy doors had been shut to keep out the rain and leaves. The floors had been swept and mopped, and she'd outdone herself by going and buying Tatami mats and new bedding. He smiled and made a mental note to give her a large bonus and a gift the next time she came by.

His house was small, modest, and half of it was built into the side of the mountain. Only the very front hall and the hearth room were visible outside of the sheer rock, the rest of the house –his bedroom, the bath, and several storage and guest rooms – took up the cave that had been his home when he first came to Kuramayama. Five hundred years ago the cave had been little more that a dent in the rock, softer stone that was easy enough to carve out of the mountainside, and after a few short years he had dug out enough that he could build inside it.

He'd planned living there from the moment he stumbled into the area: a beautiful clearing in the dense forest cut through by a small but substantial stream. It had everything he needed, from fresh water to an easily defendable position. Most of all, it was a comfortable place, cool in summer and warm in winter, with enough solitude to keep him happy, and close enough to a temple of Inari that he didn't have to walk for days to pay his respects.

He lit lamps and started the coals in braziers situated throughout the place, leaving his heavy pack near the entrance to his bedroom.

Inside, it certainly didn't look like a thief lived there. The art and hangings on the wall were modest, a few kimono for decoration (inherited from his sisters, fox and human) brush paintings by friends, books and scrolls that he had bought and collected over the years. Plants, of course, grew everywhere; from floor to ceiling there were flowering vines that matched the bright colors of the landscape outside near the front, and more delicate plants near the back of the house where it was warmest. His wealth showed in more subtle ways: real glass instead of flammable paper around the wall lamps, the remarkable expert craftsmanship of the building itself, and of course the few more modern amenities he'd given his little maid free reign to purchase as she saw fit.

The very back storage rooms were where he kept all of his coin money (put away in a warded and locked safety chest) and the more extravagant treasures he'd accumulated over the centuries, from gems and jewelry to sacred artifacts and rare texts from all over the middle kingdom. All these were stored behind glass cases etched by practiced hands with powerful warding and anti-breakage spells, as well as doubly fortified by the many plants he had growing throughout the house. The walls of those back rooms were made entirely of stone and the floors of the natural earth of the mountain, kept warm by hot water that flowed underneath the rock (some of that water he had diverted to the bathing room, which resembled a human onsen more than a demon's rougher bathing chamber) and lit by phosphorescent plants that flourished there all year long.

Now where Sōjōbō's 'palace' was large, drafty, and unwelcoming, his home was cozy and comfortable enough headquarters that he saw no reason to leave. Even if his motive when he was younger was to never stay in the same place for so long, this area had become home to him, home enough that he took his new name from the mountain. It was his place now, and no presumptuous, land-hungry crow would convince him differently. It didn't hold the ghosts of betrayal that his territory in Makai had grasped, and held no lingering impressions from any of his former counterparts. This was his place, and his alone.

He pulled open the heavy side door in the hearth room and stepped out onto the veranda. The scenery here was beautiful in any season, and now that fall had come to the mountain he had a little time to appreciate it. Down in the valley it was still the tail end of summer, but in a week or so the peak would be blanketed in heavy snow, and ready for the long winter. For now, though, the mountain was aflame from the peak on down, cooling as it reached the valley and the growing human settlements below.

They_ had_ been moving further up the mountain, that much was obvious, but not far enough to be of any consequence. Even if they did continue their progression, it would only go so far. This mountain was as sacred to them as it was to any demon, and even they wouldn't be so foolish as to invoke the mountain spirit's wrath by populating past the temple and sacred sites. That kind of thing, with any mortal being, was just Not Done. As for demons like himself, well, the mountain was a bit more lenient. He leaned against the doorframe and watched the world, letting his mind wander.

Home, food, rest. That was what he needed for now. After that, though, once he was situated and ready… well, the humans would start talking about him again, and that little upstart Raizen that he'd been hearing so much about would have his hands full trying to keep his treasure disappearing from right underneath his nose.

With these cheerful thoughts, Youko closed the door and retreated to his room to unpack.

* * *

Things were not going exactly as he expected.

Kuronue watched as his father's 'volunteers' searched through his room, _again_, for the missing shard of that gem. Sōjōbō had gone into a rage that even Tsukiko couldn't bring him out of. Speaking of…

Kuronue turned and bowed to his mother, who gave him a pained smile.

"He's going to go mad at this rate." She said, glancing over to the searchers. They were examining all his drawers now, looking closely for any hidden compartments. He didn't worry, only someone with a jagan would be able to find his hiding places, and even if they did, it would do them no good seeing as he carried the shard on his person at all times now.

"I can't believe he's having them search your rooms again."

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving her a dazzling smile. "Father knows I'd never steal from him. I overheard him talking to Tadashi, he thinks that whoever took the thing hid it somewhere in the house to keep him off the scent."

_Which is actually a good idea, if the thief in question can pull it off right._

Tsukiko sighed and patted his arm.

"I do worry, Kuronue. At the very least we can be thankful that Akira isn't here to antagonize your father… any more than you or Tadashi already do, in any case." She smiled and lifted a delicate hand to hide her mouth. "I wish the three of you would be kinder to your dear father; he has enough to worry about now that Lord Youko has returned to the mountain." She lifted an eyebrow, and he ducked his head.

"Yes mother," he said humbly. He straightened and sobered his face, putting on a cool mask. "Tell me, mother, do you know anything of this Youko character? He seems to have been causing father a great deal of trouble lately."

Tsukiko was quiet for a moment before she answered.

"If you plan on trying to meet him, bring gifts and be eloquent," she said coolly, her expression hidden behind her sleeve. "And be careful." She bowed to him, ever so slightly, and folded her hands over her lap. "Now, my darling boy, if you'll excuse me, I need to go tell your father that he's being a fool again." She bowed again and drifted down the corridor, Kuronue staring after her.

_It's true_… he thought, a shiver running down his spine. _Mothers know everything._

* * *

It was another two weeks before he could safely get away. Sōjōbō had finally called off the house-wide search for the broken shard, instead calling for the best and fastest searchers he could hire to search the countryside for the thing. They'd dispersed in all directions days ago, spreading from the manse all the way down to the first shabby houses on the outskirts of the human village in the valley. The only place they hadn't gone was Youko's territory, understandably enough. By Sōjōbō's reasoning, if Youko had found some way to steal the shard, as Tadashi had suggested later, he would have left the mountain and returned to his place in the Makai by now. Instead, he was tormenting a few better-situated humans and a Demon that had been rampaging through a few villages to the north. The searchers had been out until the first snow began to fall on the mountain peak, then Sōjōbō finally called them off. Kuronue had watched them return, feeling pangs of understandable guilt at each weary, exhausted expression. Sōjōbō hadn't punished them for their failure, thankfully, and they had all returned to their homes for the winter.

That had been plenty of time for Kuronue to prepare and plan, and to take his mother's advice. The shard by itself wasn't a suitable gift to tempt the Youko into listening to him, but he knew (or rather, guessed) that he was fond of well-crafted jewelry. Yagane had been perfectly willing to make him a pretty bit of a necklace: All silver, a teardrop shaped pendant hanging from a chain fine as a strand of silk, with a small recess in the pendant perfect for, say, a curved jewel shard. She hadn't asked what it was for, and he hadn't bothered to give her a story, only payment for a job very well done. He held it now, still wrapped in the warded cloth, and examined the handiwork. The shard fit perfectly into the grooves she had made for it, glittering in the light like a tiny red star.

The light reflected against his skin and he basked in it a few seconds more before folding it back into the cloth and tucking it protectively into his pack. He took a deep breath, made sure he was situated, and opened the door on the eastern wall of his room, the door that faced the quickest route to Youko's territory.

He leapt out into the snow just as the sun began to rise, walking until the manse was out of sight. When he was sure he wouldn't be spotted, he took to the air, beating his wings as fast as they would go and climbing into the bright morning sky.

* * *

Dawn had broken. Youko sat out on the veranda with his breakfast beside him, watching the sun climb slowly over the horizon. Down below, he could barely make out the tiny flames being lit in the village, and the bob of lamplight as the farmers made their ways to the fields for the final days of harvest. Down there the snow had not yet touched the ground, though it blanketed the peak of the mountain. All was quiet here now, and he reveled in being able to eat in peace. Earlier in the week a few upstart street urchins had followed him from a heist and refused to leave him alone until he agreed to teach them his ways. He'd sent them on a fool's errand to catch a fish that had swallowed the moon on the surface of a lake far to the north and east of here, and they'd gladly run off to do just that. He wished them luck, and returned home. He didn't expect to see either of them again; they were the kind of people who wouldn't come back until the task was without a doubt completed. Admirable, but he wasn't looking to babysit small children. He'd had enough of that from Yomi.

That thought darkened his mind for a moment, but before he could let it simmer, he heard a loud gust of wind, followed by a thud and a curse, from the other side of the house. He sighed and set down his bowl. Stretching, he walked around the veranda to see what his pet plants had caught this time.

He was surprised – to say the least – at the amusing spectacle he found presented to him. A Tengu he hadn't seen before struggled, hanging by one foot from one of the pine trees that surrounded the left side of the house: Some tall, lanky fellow who either had no sense of direction, or had been blown off-course by the wind that was starting to howl over the forest. Youko watched him struggle a moment before flopping limply over, hanging upside-down in the pine's prickly embrace.

"Having a little trouble?" He asked, keeping his tone light. There was no reason to kill him, for all that he was a Tengu and probably worked for Sōjōbō; the Tengu was unarmed save for a dagger at his side and his own claws. The Tengu pinwheeled his arms to give himself enough force to spin around and face Youko, who covered his laughter with his hand. When he had finished spinning he looked up at Youko and waved a jaunty hello.

"Not as much as I'd expected," he answered, "but this is certainly not the most dignified of meetings." His grin was amiable enough, but Youko wasn't quite ready to let him go yet.

"Here on a business trip, or are you just passing by?" He began to circle the Tengu, who seemed unconcerned.

"I suppose you could call it a business trip…" he began. Youko had a branch place a grip around his middle, and he grunted before he continued, "Mostly for your benefit, of course!"

"I would sincerely love to believe that," Youko said, leaning against the tree, "But given my current track record with your people I'm going to have to exercise a healthy bit of skepticism." The Tengu grinned up at him and tried again to struggle out of his bonds. Youko pretended to inspect his claws as he measured him.

He was handsome, at least, and seemingly of good breeding or social standing if his clothes were any indication. He wasn't dressed for any long amount of travel, so he'd obviously just come from Sōjōbō's territory. He didn't look terribly threatening, more like a very upbeat and insisting salesman who happened to have a pretty face. Annoying, but not particularly dangerous.

"This has nothing to do with anyone but you and myself, at least not in the immediate time frame, and certainly not in the future," the Tengu said, giving up his struggle but keeping that infectious grin of his. "Previous actions perpetrated by Lord Sōjōbō have provided me, and subsequently you, with a singular opportunity that I think would be beneficial to both parties in address, here at this moment in time."

"Putting it simply, you have something of his that you think I might want," Youko said, dropping all pretences of ignoring him. He gazed down at the man, twisting his mouth into a sneer. "What could that overstuffed pheasant possibly have that I would have use of? Maps? Treasures? I have plenty, and I can easily gain plenty more without having to degrade myself by stealing from such an easy target as he. He couldn't have any information that would be relevant to me, either. I haven't been back in the game long enough to want to barter for such trivial, insubstantial things."

The Tengu nodded, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"I would never insult your intelligence in such a way. I, too, know how behind Lord Sōjōbō is on the times, especially in the particular communities you frequent. What I have is something that I know is of value to you, something he inadvertently deprived you of a few centuries ago…"

It clicked with him now. Sōjōbō's ruse about the shard from his gem a few weeks ago, and now this clowning fellow here…

He bade the tree tighten its grip a fraction more, and the man made a gurgling noise, his smile turning from amiable to nervous.

"I know what you have, boy. Give it here; it was never yours to barter with." The tree branches hoisted his prisoner until he was eye-level. "I may not kill you if you comply."

"How unfortunate…" the Tengu grunted, pushing at the branches around his waist. "I was hoping to keep this civil, but I guess you…" Youko tightened the branches more, and he wheezed out something incoherent.

"What was that?" Youko said, tilting the Tengu's face up to see better. "I didn't quite hear…you…"

He had grey eyes, dark, storm-cloud grey.

"I said, 'I guess you've never seen a razorwing in action,'" the Tengu answered, smiling at him. His wings flared then, just for a second, then thrust down, the tips of the feathers sharpened by some Tengu magic to a knife's edge, slicing through the branches. He held up his hand, in it was a black cloth embroidered with warding seals.

"If you want your little gem back, you'll have to catch me first," he said, jumping back. His great black wings mantled and he took to the air, calling behind him, "It's a fun way to keep warm, at least!"

Youko stood dumbfounded for only a second before leaping after him, using trees for leverage.

_How could I have forgotten those damn wings?_ He paused at the top of a camphor, now leafless and slick with snow and ice. The Tengu was wheeling in the air just above him, doing turns and somersaults.

"I'm going to kill you when I catch you, bird!" he shouted, making the branches stretch out to him "I'll rip off those damn wings of yours!" For some reason, the threat on his tongue didn't reach his heart; this looked like it would be a fun day. He ran along the branches and leaped out to grab at the Tengu, just missing as he floated out of the way.

"Frustrating, isn't it?" The Tengu joked, backwinging away from him. Youko snarled for emphasis and put a hand to his hair, summoning up the ropey vines to twine around his fingers.

"I'll show you frustrating…" He snapped his hand and the vines sprang out, twining around the Tengu's leg. They hovered that way for only a moment until the Tengu beat his gigantic wings and took full force to the air, Youko dangling from the vines behind him. It wouldn't have been so bad, really, if the Tengu had just gone up a little ways to try and shake him off, it would have been much easier to just jump off and attack again, but he kept going up.

Damn, and damn again… Youko stared down at the landscape below his feet: they were easily a kilometer above his home, he could see forever in each direction.

"I'd think about letting go now if I were you," the Tengu called from above. "If I go too much higher the fall could kill you."

"We'll see about that," Youko murmured. He began to climb up the vines, wrapping them around his arms and feet as he went. The Tengu watched his progress for a second before climbing higher, his wings beating their own wind around him. He began to dip and weave, turning and floating and stopping in midair. Youko held on tight, climbing as fast as he could manage without being blown off. The Tengu was tiring.

He was inches away from the Tengu's foot when he suddenly folded his wings and pulled into a steep dive. Youko yelped, losing his grip, and spun into a free-fall behind him. He reached out blindly, grabbing for something – anything – and hooked his claws into one of the Tengu's wings. The Tengu yelled something that Youko couldn't really hear over the wind, and they slammed into each other, tumbling through the sky like a baby bird kicked out of its nest. An arm snaked around his waist and he heard the terrible snap of wings opening into a wind too strong to handle, and gasped as they were jerked back into the sky before diving into a tail spin, the world swirling about them. A few breaths' worth of time was all it took before they smashed headlong into bare, snow-laden tree branches, protected only by the Tengu's wings and Youko's frantic attempt to move the branches enough out of the way to keep from snapping both their necks. The branches moved, the snow blinded him, and he had enough time to feel a horrible and sick crack against his skull before everything went cold and black.

* * *

TBC

4/23/2008

And so ends chapter 4. Thank you very much for reading this far, comments and critiques are always welcome, flames accepted with a grain of salt, marriage proposals seriously considered. A special thank-you to my beta, without whom I should still be wading in the deep waters of second-guessing myself and _ad nauseum_ revisions.

For sneak peeks into future chapters and the occasional chapter illustration, I direct you to my livejournal: rehdfawx dot livejournal dot com.

* * *


	5. An unfortunate blunder

Chapter Five

* * *

It was the tinny sound of unfamiliar music that woke him up this time, and a heavy numbness in his legs that was a bit more unsettling than the weird tune playing in his ears. Rolling underneath the music was the tail end of a splitting headache he was surprised to have slept through, but part of him was sure that the ache itself was just another memory, a shade of something from long, long ago.

He pushed it away; it irritated him. Instead, he focused on his ears, listening hard. The song was punctuated by people talking—not entirely unfamiliar voices, but not instantly recognizable.

_What the hell am I hearing and what time is it?_

Kurama tried to swing his legs off the couch and stretch, but they were firmly pinned to the cushions by something much heavier than his cat. He craned his head around, only able to catch a glimpse of the television as his neck screamed bloody protest. It was a game he had heard, some cut-scene in one of the more recent titles; damned if he knew which one. It was a clue, however, and perhaps more of a roundabout way than poking around at the aura of whoever was sitting on him, but there was only one person in the entirety of existence that would have the gall to sit on his legs and play video games while he was sleeping.

"Yuusuke, why don't you ever call before you come over?" he mumbled trying to push himself into a more comfortable position. A perturbed meow told him that he was pinned in more places than just his legs; Misa had been sleeping on his hair.

"I dunno," Yuusuke mumbled, Kurama guessed he was fixated on the game. He could hear the various noises of Epic Battle being acted out by the Intrepid Adventurers, and names being shouted. Yuna, Lulu… one of the Final Fantasy games? Did he even _have_ those anymore?

"Is that my game, or yours?"

"Yours, dude. Did you like… buy it and not play it?"

"I think I got as far as the part where the two main people started making out in a lake, and I gave up."

"Why? You missed all the cool shit that happened afterwards."

"Too hetero for me. All those breeder freaks all over the place make me sick."

There was a long silence, and the ominous sound of the game being paused. Kurama deduced that Yuusuke was giving him a _look_, but he couldn't turn his head to see.

"You're a fucking weirdo, Kurama," he said finally, unpausing the game.

"I love you too. What time is it?"

"I dunno, like eleven or something."

"Okay, get up."

"No way, man. I'm in the middle of the final boss fight."

"Geeze, when the hell did you get here?"

"Fuck, I dunno. Like eight or something."

"And you call _me_ the weirdo. Get off my legs, King Asshole." Kurama wiggled his legs around, not really putting as much effort into it. It was weirdly comfortable; they'd hung out like this so much more often before college and careers and real life got in the way. He missed it, sometimes, even though the situation was usually downtime between life-threatening missions.

"Final Boss. Cannot lose."

"Fine. What happened, anyway?"

"Tidus figgered out his dad was Sin."

"His dad? That Jecht guy that he hated so much?"

"Yeah, and, like, when they beat Sin Tidus will die or something."

Kurama snorted into the couch cushions. Thank the gods _they_ never had to deal with something like that.

"God, I hate games like that."

"What, where the main dude dies at the end?"

"Yeah, that's why I hardly play anymore. I hate the fact that you go through the entire story keeping his bottle-blond butt alive and he just goes off and dies at the end." Kurama tried again to pry his legs out, but they were still firmly ensconced between Yuusuke's butt and the couch. "That, and we pretty much live in a fantasy world, so it's not like I need the escapism."

"Yeah, no shit." Yuusuke moved like he was going to stand for a moment, and Kurama began to pull his legs back, only to have Yuusuke shift his weight and flop back down.

"…_bastard,_" Kurama grumbled into the cushions, wriggling his legs around. If he couldn't be free, then he'd settle for making his ol' buddy ol' pal _extremely_ uncomfortable.

"Man, I fucking hate this part of the game," Yuusuke said, dropping the controller as the battle gave way to another video. "Like, I wasn't that much of a pussy with Raizen."

Kurama stopped kicking, instead settling for removing the very much perturbed Misa from her spot. "Liar, you cried like a baby. You were inconsolable for days."

"I did no such thing, you dick," Yuusuke grumbled, morosely tossing the controller from hand to hand.

"You go ahead and keep trying to convince me, Urameshi. You're doing a great job. Anyway, why are you here?"

"I told you I was coming over yesterday, remember?"

"No, you didn't say anything about visiting..." Kurama finally managed to drag his legs from underneath Yuusuke and stretched, popping all the kinks out of his back and shoulders. He loved his couch to death, but damn if it wasn't a bitch to wake up on.

"Yeah, well, I was _thinking_ it."

"Yes, of course, since we all know that I'm a mind reader as well. Any other superpowers you want to unfairly foist off on me?"

"Let's turn you into an angel-vampire-catboy-god and call it square."

"I'm not wearing kitty ears for you, if that's what you're getting at."

"Kuwabara would shit himself." Yuusuke laughed, tossing away the controller. He leaned back in his favorite 'chilling out' pose, hands behind his head and legs sprawled out in front of him. He grinned up at Kurama, the same look on his face he'd seen hundreds, thousands of times.

"There's a reason you're here, I know it. Tell me you at least had the decency to make breakfast." Kurama sighed, popping his shoulder back into working order. Yuusuke jerked his thumb over his shoulder, to a brown bag sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I'm a good boy, I know when to bring bribes."

Kurama rolled his eyes and moved to the kitchen, examining the bag and its contents. He was wary of the grease stains at the bottom, but when he opened it the aroma of still-warm bread and vegetables wafted by his nose, any misgivings he had dropped, and he dug in, grabbing two stuffed rolls for himself and another two for Yuusuke.

"Curry rolls? Yuusuke, you are a prince." He took a good-sized bite out of one roll and vaulted himself onto the couch, handing Yuusuke his share.

"You must want something really big," Kurama said around bites, "because you never spoil me like this."

"Yeah well, I'm a prince." Yuusuke set one of his rolls on his leg, tossing the other from hand to hand.

"A prince who makes ramen for the masses," Kurama amended, finishing off his first roll. "Speaking of, shouldn't you be at the shop? Who's covering? Keiko?"

"Nah, Keiko has day classes. Kido needed another part-time job, so I said he could work for me. Anyway, we've gotta talk."

"What about?" Kurama broke off small bits of his remaining roll and offered them to Misa, who studiously ignored them until he looked away.

"Well, for one, I'm making sure that Kazuma hasn't turned you into a crazy cat person…" at Kurama's glare, Yuusuke leaned out of smacking range and raised his hands over his head. "Just kidding, man. Actually, Yomi's been dropping off weird messages that you might possibly be planning on doing something stupid."

"It's a load of crap," Kurama mumbled, suddenly losing his appetite. "I'm not planning on anything except paying my respect to Inari in the next couple of days." He set the rest of the roll in front of the cat and pushed himself off the couch. "And no, that doesn't involve any life-or-death situations, no terrible trials, no fights, challenges, and as far as I know, no demons involved." He paced as he counted off the situations, agitated. It was stupid that Yomi worried, and insulting that he tried to use Yuusuke to intervene against a non-existent issue.

"As far as you know?"

"Yes, as far as I know. Maybe some other Kitsune are planning on visiting on the same day, and don't give me that look, I'm not lying."

Yuusuke watched him pace, drumming his fingers on the couch cushions. "Okay, I can believe that. What interests me is what spurred this sudden interest in making nice with a god."

"Not _a_ god, Yuusuke, _my_ god. The god I've worshipped since before your demon granddaddy was born, bud."

"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you or nothin', I'm just worried. Like, you've been really quiet the past couple months, and I—well, me and Kazuma and everybody—we were wondering if you were going to leave us or something."

"I... what? What do you mean, leave?"

Yuusuke fiddled with the game controller some more, picking it up, looking at it, setting it down. He was gathering his thoughts, Kurama knew, and it was taking a long time to put them all in one place.

"You know, you've been really distant lately." He began, finally looking up into Kurama's eyes with an expression that could have been something like the one his human stepbrother gave him, only more intense. It was some kind of look he didn't quite understand, nor could he rationalize. "You don't visit anyone much, and when you do you leave only after a little bit. At first Kuwabara 'n I thought it was because you were, uh, working for Yomi." Kurama did not fail to notice how Yuusuke stumbled over the word "working," or the slight shift in his gaze when he said it.

_You've known for a while, haven't you. But you don't want to say it, why?_

Yuusuke suddenly jumped to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets and scowling.

"Okay, you know what? I'm just gonna come out and say it. I think you've been letting Yomi take over your life, and not even noticing. Like, this apartment, and all the shit he gives you, he's like your demon asshole sugar daddy and I hate it, okay? It's like he's trying to buy you away from us and it's not fair." Yuusuke began to pace, his strides wide and agitated. "I know he was there first, but he was an asshole to you back in the day and he's even worse now because it's like he's got you as a goddamn pet and it irritates the hell out of me. Not to mention that he started this bullshit right after what happened with Yakumo, and you were already feeling bad about that shit that happened, he just slithered in and took over and you let him. _We're_ the ones who are supposed to be there for you, and we didn't even get a chance to try because his selfish ass put you in a glass cage and we've gotta just sit back because he's a paranoid fuck and thinks you hanging out with any of us is a conspiracy." Yuusuke stopped then, his scowl deepening and his fists shove so far into his pockets that Kurama wondered if he wasn't going to rip holes in his jeans. "You're _my_ friend too, and he's a jerk," he said, with an air of finality.

Kurama sat back, regarding him calmly, but his mind was wild. That Yuusuke was concerned was nothing new, but the _intensity_ of his concern was more than what Kurama was used to, and he felt guilty. He couldn't say that Yuusuke was wrong, his argument was far too rational for that.

"I suppose I've really dug a hole for myself, haven't I," he said finally, needing to break the silence that had suddenly invaded what had earlier been a peaceful atmosphere. The faces on the television were frozen in various states of shock, as if they too were concerned with the tiny drama unfolding in Kurama's living room.

"You let him slither in."

"Guilty. And because I _felt_ guilty. I thought I could make up for what I did to him."

"That's a lie. You did it because he came back the way Kuronue didn't," Yuusuke blurted, and they could both feel the hot grab of a bad atmosphere of saying the wrong thing at the right time.

Kurama's gaze, which had settled on the T.V. screen, snapped to Yuusuke's face, black and angry.

"How _dare_ you-"

"You can't tell me I'm wrong," Yuusuke interrupted, taking the opportunity where he saw it. He'd screwed up what was meant to be a pep talk, but there was no turning back now, and they both knew it.

"I can see it in your eyes, and it only started happening after Yakumo. You can't use Yomi as a replacement for what you think were failures with someone else, because that's going to get you hurt or killed." Yuusuke stood, and switched off the game system. "This isn't just me, here. We've all seen it and nobody's said anything because we respect you, but you're choking yourself and I'm sick of watching you suffocate." He turned towards the door, pausing a moment to look over his shoulder. Kurama stared back at him, into his infuriatingly sincere eyes, half ready to pounce from the couch and tear him apart. He was close – very close – to ripping Yuusuke in half for that insinuation. That very true, embarrassing, and horrible insinuation that needed to be put out in the open. Gratitude warred with anger, but anger was strong and hot and reinforced by a dozen nights of bad dreams and sad memories.

He would have killed Yuusuke, given the chance, and he didn't know if he'd regret it.

"Think on it, Kurama. I don't want to see you get hurt more than you already have." And, with that farewell, he left, the hollow echo of the door his parting shot.

Kurama stayed, staring at the door for a great while, and contemplating murderous torture.

* * *

Kurama delayed himself as long as he dared, stalking around the apartment and muttering about inconsistently insightful friends and Yuusuke's special ability of being able to say just the right thing to get him angry at just the right time. He wondered how he'd manage to leave himself so unbearably open to attack, how Yuusuke had noticed, and just how accurate Yuusuke's words had been.

Very accurate, he couldn't deny it. He _wanted _to, certainly, but he absolutely couldn't and it was driving him mad. It was infuriating, and he hated himself, hated Yomi, and right now – even though his intentions had been noble – especially hated Yuusuke for pointing out what should have been glaringly obvious. He stalled for a long time before he left, and by the time he had gotten to Miyagi, most of the morning had passed.

This time the trip wasn't punctuated by amusing foreigner antics, though he wasn't sure he would have been able to take the atmosphere with good grace. He was in no mood for tourists, and was thankful that the temple was weekday-quiet, and the few devotees that were immediately present ignored him almost completely. There _was_ one other Kitsune that he noticed, an old one (by regular standards) who bowed low enough for his wide-brimmed hat to brush the ground when Kurama passed. The Kitsune wasn't far past two or three hundred years, and usually the kind that was beneath notice, but Kurama was still reeling from that dried-up sensation of his faults being shoved in his face, so he bowed back, though not nearly as low. The old Kitsune noticed, though, and grinned bright and toothlessly at him as he passed. Kurama did not grin back; his humility was the biggest reward that old fox was ever going to get.

He prayed again, and this time was not surprised by the quiet reception.

* * *

At Fushimi Inari, after a long commute by train and another quick meal, he stood in understandable awe, staring at the multitudinous gates marching up the spine of the mountain. Just north and west of Inari was Kurama-dera, and he turned to let his gaze lay on the peaks he had called home for the better part of a thousand years. Even with his eyesight being what it was, he could only barely make out the outline of Mount Kurama from here, at the lower temple of Inari. Long ago his eyesight had been much sharper, and the air clearer, and he had watched the torii gates slowly begin to overtake the mountain. He remembered the western occupation, and when the temple had all but burned to the ground, and watched as it had been rebuilt again.

It had been a magnificent temple, once, and while he had not been born into the service of Inari, he often felt quite a swell of pride for the abode of his chosen God. Now it was less than remarkably grand, just another tourist trap for foreigners. The lower temple was situated in traditional fashion, and as he once more moved through the minor purification ritual he let his gaze wander over the courtyard.

There were kitsch stands situated cheek-by-jowl with the offering houses, with mass-produced fox masks grinning at him from every side. Just within the first massive gate there were two food stands, a slew of vending machines, and a jewelry stand that sold gold-plated necklaces shaped like the sacred keys to the temple. Cell-phone charms like the one he wore on his own mobile hung next to the fox masks and the key necklaces, their little bells twinkling in the damp wind. Keeping a grimace from his face, he passed the first offering temple and turned right, up the first path of torii gates and past the mouldering statues of his Kitsune cousins.

One thing he had forgotten in the years since he last visited the temple was that the place had been neatly overrun by a legion of feral cats. A few of them, he noticed, carried a little bit of the divine spark, there in lieu of actual foxes to bless travelers to the temple. The place was crawling with them, much in the way it was crawling with vending machines. He didn't mind the cats so much, it would be rather hypocritical of him to begrudge them their home when he had a fat happy cat of his own keeping a lazy eye on his apartment, but the vending machines he could have done without. The afternoon was getting on into evening, and the dull hum from the machines broke the reverent silence that blanketed the temple once the daylight hours faded into dusk. He couldn't hear the hum of the earth and the trees over the hum of human technology, a ticking drone that beat into his head, a metronome for thought.

_You did it because he came back the way Kuronue didn't. _

_He came back._

_Kuronue didn't._

_Damn_ Yuusuke, damn his insights and his persistent, irritating voice! Kurama stalked up the mountainside, underneath the red gates and past the few worshippers, his eyes as dark as his thoughts. No one bothered him, and he liked that just fine.

_He isn't wrong. I'm a fool, and damn him for calling me on it. Damn Yomi, damn Yuusuke. Damn Kuronue. Damn you the most, you stupid bird. _

Yomi came back from the dead. Kuronue didn't.

Kurama continued up the mountain, no longer thinking about prayers or cats.

* * *

Dusk was different at the Upper Temple, and the last of the torii gates he left behind with a final fleeting thought as to how horribly he was going to murder Yuusuke, and how long he was going to torture him beforehand. His pride was beaten to an ember, now, and his legs were actually sore from the climb, also possibly Yuusuke's fault. He didn't mind it, though. The dull aching in his legs beat a different time than the hum of machines along the mountain trail, punctuated by the odd yowl from a feral cat. He relished the pain, no matter how minor, and let it fuel him onward to his final little task for whoever the hell Setsumaru was and get on with his life.

Maybe start by moving out of that bedamned apartment, nice as it was. No more noisy neighbors, that would be his reason, and Yomi would accept it or he could go to hell. He might not even tell Hiei where he was moving to, but little good that would do. Maybe he would just start by kicking the shit out of Yuusuke. _God,_ he was so _mad_ at him! Of all the days that irritating prick could have picked to bring that up… no, leave it at the gate. Think of Inari, think good thoughts. Good thoughts end with setting Yuusuke on fire.

He kept on that way for a few moments as he ambled along the flat walkway to the Upper Temple's offering house. The heavy bellpulls swayed in a breeze that was still thick with the scent of storm, and he didn't need to check the skies to imagine that by the time he made his way back home he would most likely be fully drenched. He sighed and rang the bells twice, clapped, rang, clapped and prayed, feeling once again that gentle wash of divine love fall over him and then…

Nothing.

_Oh, for Inari's sake, I came all the way up here, I came all this way, give me something back._

He investigated the offering shrine thoroughly, walking around it and around the walkway, up to the main temple house. Nothing. Maybe it was some cute prank being played by some Kitsune who figured he was being lax in his devotion? He couldn't tell. Perhaps "Setsumaru" was just some elaborate joke.

"I was betting with myself; I didn't think you'd actually come."

A familiar voice, but only vaguely. Kurama turned and noticed a figure detached only slightly from the deepening shadows inside the Temple house. The figure – male, tall, and disturbingly familiar, though not enough for Kurama to quite put a finger on him – stepped down from the shadows and bowed politely to Kurama. His face was pleasant, and his aura, what little there was, reminded him almost of… Tengu? But why a Tengu in Inari's temple, of all places?

"Are you Setsumaru?" Kurama asked, taking a cautionary step back. The man smiled and nodded his head ever so slightly, before turning and motioning to the magnificent view.

"I am called that now. Like you, I have found it quite profitable to attain an alias for use here in the human's world." He paused, the barely noticeably aura keying up to something far more powerful and familiar, though unthreatening. "You knew me before, as Tadashi, elder brother of Kuronue." He smiled, an almost sad look on his face. Kurama blanked, something like panic and intuition gripping his gut for a split second before he pushed it away.

"I remember you." Kurama answered him, standing firmly with his back to Kyoto and his eyes reaching into the deepening darkness. "He… always spoke highly of you."

"I am glad to hear that."

They stared at each other in silence for a long while, the sun leaving them. He could hear the monks who still lived in the lower temple beginning their evening prayers, though up here all was silent. Even the cats had stopped their calling, and the birds had finished their evening song moments before. Kurama stared at Tadashi, now Setsumaru, and memorized the face that looked so much like, and yet so different from, his departed brother.

"You want to know why I called you here, and to the other temples."

"Yes."

"I have something to show you."

Tadashi turned, and Kurama thought for a moment he would re-enter the temple, but he moved away and around it, following a monk's path to behind the building. Kurama did not hesitate to follow.

* * *

_What are you doing, Kurama? You're looking down a road you don't want to travel._

The rational part of his mind told him this, but he continued to follow Tadashi down the little-used path through the heavy mists of nightfall and into what his gut was telling him was probably a murder trap. He could think of any number of scenarios – that Tadashi wanted to avenge his brother, or his father or whatever else – and any one of them made sense.

And yet, he continued to follow.

_Hello, self-preservation, would you like to kick in anytime soon?_

"I have been searching for you for quite some time," Tadashi said, keeping steady pace along the path that was taking them far deeper into the mountain than Kurama himself ever remembered going. Kurama-dera was his territory, not Fushimi, and he kept it that way all this time. He'd never gotten along with the Fushimi foxes (or any other Japanese foxes, for that matter) so he hadn't touched the mountain beyond visiting the temple.

"Have you? I haven't exactly been keeping a low profile."

Tadashi chuckled, the sound almost supernatural in the darkness. "I noticed. I was hoping to wait for the right time to approach you, but the times have been difficult for the both of us, you especially. I hear you're working for your former protégé now?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." _Please let's not talk about that. I've had that on my mind enough today._

"That's very noble of you. I remember distinctly that at one time you tried to have him killed." His tone did not change, it was still light and conversational, but Kurama nonetheless felt a chill trace up his spine.

"Unlike your brother, he was beyond my ability to teach aside from drastic measures."

"Kuronue was always a fast learner."

They continued in silence, then, until Tadashi stopped in front of a structure that looked – strangely enough – quite new compared to the temple. Kurama stood a respectful distance behind Tadashi, glancing from him to the small building, hands in his pockets and trying to feel as casual as he looked. Tadashi strode forward and slid open the door, and Kurama could hear the rustling of paper from within.

"Follow me, please," Tadashi said, before entering. Kurama hesitated a moment, and then followed, running one hand through his hair and against the nape of his neck, securing a rose seed between his fingers.

The rustling he heard came from Ofuda charms; thousands of them. They lined the walls, ranging in age from tattered beyond repair to brand new. Not a bit of the wall was visible underneath what looked like several decades worth of the charms, and he noticed that while most of them were damaged from simple aging, many were damaged from some kind of surge of power.

Something was trapped in here, something old and strong, and every instinct he had was screaming at him to turn around and walk right the hell out the door. But part of him, the tiny, stupid, deep down in the molten core of him part, knew that if he walked out, he would lose the chance of grasping on to something he'd never again have the opportunity to take. For that, he followed Tadashi, down into the depths of the building. Their footsteps echoed on tile, not dirt or wood, and the whole structure seemed to be made of metal. No organics, but for the paper in the ofuda, and Kurama was uneasy.

It was scant moments before Tadashi stopped again, and this time Kurama stood shoulder to shoulder with him. At the end of the charm-lined hallway was a charm-lined chamber. Here the ofuda were burned away in many places, and the walls were scarred with deep gouges. Some of them looked like claw marks, others seemed to be the marks of pure demon energy. The chamber itself was a walkway, centered in which was a pit. Not a _profound_ pit, really, only about two stories deep, and dark but for a single figure lying in the middle on the cold tile floor. It was completely involuntary, but Kurama stepped forward, simply to see the figure better.

"Oh, Inari…"

Tadashi's hands slammed down on his shoulders, digging into his skin, and Kurama found he was having a very hard time moving or breathing.

"He's been waiting for you for quite some time, Kurama Youko," Tadashi said, his voice never losing that dreamy, gentle tone. His hands were growing hot, and the heat buried into his chest, burning the air out of his lungs.

"Kuronue…" Kurama managed to gasp out, through the tense heat in his chest "_How?_"

"I put him here." Tadashi leaned forward over Kurama's shoulders to look down into the pit, down at his brother who slept in uneasy pain at the bottom of a sealed well. "It took me years to separate the two of you long enough to capture him, and I nearly had to kill him in the process, but it did work out so nicely. I've been keeping him here to siphon off his power for decades. Look…" He held out a hand, reaching towards Kuronue. Power like lightning arced from fingertips to form, and Kurama could barely hear a muffled scream above the crack of energy, and without thinking he pushed everything he could into that tiny seed in his fingers, thorns like knives piercing the air up and around him with reckless abandon.

He turned, swinging his free arm out to knock Tadashi away, or off-balance, or _something,_ the rose plant bursting forth into spastic, uncontrollable bloom. His power was out of his hands, and he caught Tadashi's hand, pulling him towards the edge of the pit. One foot slipped over the edge of the floor and he lost his balance, digging his hand into the Tengu's arm. They hung that way for a moment, Kurama suspended over the drop – _this is nothing, if he drops me the worst I'll get is a mean bruise_ – and Tadashi staring at him in a very creepy, very meaningful way.

"I have plans, Kurama Youko, to finish what my father started." He pushed forward the hand Kurama had not latched on to, and pressed it onto and _into_ Kurama's chest, his fingers glowing with white-hot light, and that burning, unable to breathe sensation came back with a vengeance, and Kurama lost his grip, pulled backwards by treacherous gravity. Tadashi grabbed him, fingers digging into his hair, pressing his hand farther in and then pulling, _ripping_ away.

White-hot hands. A brilliant flash of scarlet light, and down Kurama went, into the dark, charm-lined chamber.

* * *

When Youko awoke there were two things on his mind. The first, a splitting headache, and the second, a burning desire for roast crow. There was a Tengu he was about to kill, and he would enjoy every single moment of it.

Now, if only he could move.

He noticed at once that, when he opened his eyes, he was met with several unsettling sights. The first being that he was in his own home and he was in no condition to have gotten there by himself, and the second was the selfsame Tengu that had nearly murdered them both sitting with his back to the wall, chin resting on his hand, and _staring_ at him.

"I'm going to kill you," Youko said coolly, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. It was… less than successful and he managed to land with a soft thud on his side, and he silently commanded the room to stop spinning.

"Probably, but not with a concussion," the Tengu answered mildly, watching as Youko struggled into a more-or-less upright position.

"Why did you bring me here?" Youko growled. He noticed that the Tengu had gone through great lengths to make him comfortable, from dragging down an extra futon to banking the fire so the light wasn't unbearable. He would have been grateful, too, if it wasn't for the throbbing _ouch_ in his skull.

"Well, I couldn't very well bring you back to my place, seeing as you're not exactly the most welcome of guests, and here was closer anyway."

"You shouldn't even be _in_ here. My plants would have killed you on sight."

"Well, you _were_ with me, and injured, so your loyal watch ferns decided to let me in."

"…I'm going to _kill_ you," Youko said again. And, every god damn him, the Tengu had the nerve to _laugh_ at him.

* * *

"My leg is broken?" Youko asked later. After a hot meal (prepared courtesy of the Tengu, who had a cook's hands, he noticed) and a good draught of tea laced with enough pain-killing herbs to douse an elephant, he was in a far better mood to talk, and the Tengu was in a far nicer mood to indulge him.

"Oh yes. One of my wings just about snapped off, but that's easily taken care of. You really saved us both by moving the trees out of the way."

"Huh. It doesn't _feel_ broken."

"Painkillers will do that, I'd imagine."

"Ah. Oh, give me my jewel back," Youko said. It wasn't even worded as an order or a demand. Like he was just _suggesting_ it. He felt very strange, and the dullness in his mind was multiplied by a heavy exhaustion that threatened to have him fall off into oblivion any second now, if only the Tengu would stop shaking him awake when he started nodding off.

"I was planning to, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was hoping to make a nice occasion out of it, but you seemed to take it the wrong way."

"Did I."

"Yeah. And here I went through all the trouble of making it pretty for you." The Tengu reached into one of the pouches at his waist, pulling out the warded cloth and unfolding it to show Youko. The shattered bit of gem glittered in a silver setting, and Youko ignored the shooting pain in his left leg to clamor over to the Tengu, landing almost squarely in his lap to look at the jewel in its beautiful new home. The Tengu stifled a laugh and moved enough so that they could both sit comfortably and admire the gem, it's radiant light bathing them in scarlet glory.

"It's beautiful," Youko remarked, carefully running a finger over the pendant's design. "Did you make this?"

"No, I have no talent for crafting as fine as this, but I have a friend who does, and went to her. Only the best for a Legend."

"I see." He stared at the jewel, _his_ jewel, for another moment before realizing he'd just made himself at home in the lap of a person whose name he didn't even know. "Tell me your name."

"Kuronue," came the answer, and he could feel himself fading again from that strange numbness.

"You're quite mad, Kuronue. I might have killed you on sight, if I'd been in a worse mood."

"I'll be sure to catch you in the morning if I ever have any bad news, then."

"Indicating future correspondence. You're absolutely insane."

"You don't seem uninterested in keeping me around. I take this as a good sign."

"I'll let you stay if you'll let me sleep," Youko said with an air of finality. He'd wonder later if the hit to his head had caused temporary insanity, but then it wasn't the worst thing he had done in his life so he could live with it. He could always kill the Tengu… Kill _Kuronue_ later if he got irritating.

"I'd call that a bargain."

"Right here."

"In my _lap?"_

"I don't feel much like moving at the moment, and you're comfortable."

There was a moment of silence before Kuronue shrugged and reached over to pull one of the blankets off the futon. No sooner had he managed to situate it around them than Youko fell asleep, face pressed to Kuronue's shoulder and hand still resting on his wrist, right next to the jewel.

"Well, I guess we're off to a good start, then," Kuronue said to the plants, before leaning back and making himself comfortable for what was sure to be a very long, very strange night.

* * *

31 may 2008

TBC

After months of quibbling with little details and an entirely last-minute draft revision, I give you chapter five.  
Special thanks once again to Darkangel-Wings for being an excellent beta and fixing my multitudinous grammar errors, and for being a total sweetheart, to boot.

Comments, questions, and flames are accepted, bribes considered, and so forth. I don't often reply back to comments here, but friend me on livejournal if you'd like to chat.

Thank you for reading, see you again soon.


	6. Conversations in the Dark

Chapter Six

Conversations in the Dark

* * *

It was quite some time before Kurama could regain active consciousness. For a while, it was a long gray tunnel of being awake, but incoherent and confused. Once that left him, he took inventory of his injuries.

His back ached terribly, and his right arm had gone almost completely numb. If he didn't try to move it, there was no real feeling, but the second he flexed his fingers there was a sudden, shooting pain that went all the way up to his skull. Broken, maybe, or just sprained? He couldn't quite tell. He tried to look to assess the damage, and had a moment of pure panic where he was sure he had gone blind. Not the case, just the near-pitch darkness of the pit, and as his eyes adjusted the only thing he could really see was the dull (almost nonexistant) glow of light from the ofuda charms.

With the adjustment came another lovely revelation: his eyes were weak. _Human_ weak, and his other senses had fared no better. No longer could he see well in the not-light, or distinguish separate sounds and smells with the clarity he had before. All was dull, as if he'd been covered with a blanket, or a cocoon, not completely cut off but still removed. As he lay, staring up at the ofuda and the ceiling of the pit, he raised his hand, resting it on his chest, where a human heart now beat, uninhibited by the tidal flow of his youki. The space where his _kitsune-bi_ had once rested, fractured but still mostly intact, his power. Arguably, his life.

All that lost, now in Tadashi's hands. The Tengu had effectively crippled him as much as he had done to poor Kuronue, only instantaneously instead of over so long a time. And Kuronue... was he dead, now? He hadn't moved at all after that last pull of power, and Kurama could hear no breathing over the fluttering of the ofuda charms.

He rolled over onto his uninjured side, using that arm to support him, and pushed up from the cold metal floor. His feet faced the mouth of the pit and the exit out to Fushimi Inari, and if he rolled to his right there was a wall. To his left was the open floor of the pit and - he prayed - Kuronue, and not just a fresh corpse. He crawled forward, injured arm held tight to his body, supporting himself with his knees and one good hand.

Kurama crawled through half a century's worth of dust, feeling out ahead of him. It seemed ages before his hands touched something what was metal. His fingers brushed fabric and he felt a terrible chill of horror when he felt the deathly stillness of Kuronue's skin. He waited in silence, finding Kuronue's chest and resting his hand there, waiting for a sign, _something_ to tell him Kuronue was still alive.

He didn't wait long, there was a breath. Slow, exhausted and weak, but it was there, and Kurama let out his own breath; he didn't realize he had been holding it. Kuronue scarcely moved underneath his hand, but he was there, _alive._

"Am I dreaming you?" he murmured, reaching out blindly to rest a hand on Kuronue's cheek. No tricks, no imposter, he knew the feel of Kuronue's skin like he knew his own face in the mirror. Not a dream; he even dared hope that they might escape this pit alive, somehow. He leaned back against the wall of the pit, hand still resting on Kuronue's skin, no sound but for their breathing and the ghostly orchestra of the ofuda paper.

* * *

"_You've reached Minamino, please leave a brief me-"_

Yuusuke snapped his phone closed and rubbed his eyes, exasperated and tired. Kuwabara was standing opposite him, arms crossed and eyes closed and a look of intense concentration on his face.

"No answer on his cell or at his apartment, nothing from his mom," he muttered, shoving the phone into his pocket. "Anything?"

"I can't find him. Not a trace," Kuwabara sighed. It was late now, long past sunset and climbing towards midnight. They had both felt the sudden and disturbing silence from Kurama; even though they rarely spoke anymore, there was always that _knowing_ where he was. But, since sunset... silence.

"Where did you say he was going?"

"He didn't say exactly, just that he was going to pay his respects to Inari. There are tons of places he could have gone. He could be in _Aichi_ for all I know." How many times had he cursed himself so far for not asking exactly where? _Damn._ He was quiet a long time, thinking.

"It's fuckin' pouring out there. I hope he's indoors, wherever he is," Kuwabara muttered, hands in his pockets, shoulders slouched. Few unlucky pedestrians were on the street at this time of night; for all this was a particularly popular part of town, rain wasn't weather for outside socializing. The few that passed them left a wide berth – whether it was from the rather savagely irritated look on Yuusuke's face or the dark, slouching figure that Kuwabara cut was anyone's guess. Neither of them cared; it was late, they were tired, and what had been a simple if irritating situation earlier in the day was slipping downhill with the street garbage in the dense rain.

"You shouldn't 've pissed him off, Urameshi," Kuwabara muttered after a while. Silence made him uneasy, and nights like this were the nights where silence invited angry mutterings from the city spirits, as if he didn't have enough on his mind already. "I shoulda been the one to talk to him."

"Don't turn this into my fault," Yuusuke warned. He tugged a battered pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit up, blowing the first lungful of smoke deliberately at his friend.

"It isn't your fault, but you sure as hell tossed a big wrench in the wheel, I'm willing to bet."

"I was _trying-" _a peal of thunder cut him off briefly, and he grimaced up at the sky. "… to be helpful. He would have talked you out of whatever you were going to say. I know him."

"Fuck you, I know him too," Kuwabara hunched his shoulders further and snorted unhappily.

Another long silence, punctuated by more thunder, brief flashes of lightning, and a few drunken shoults from further down the street that faded into nothing.

"We could call Hiei," Yuusuke suggested after a while. He looked sideways at Kuwabara, wondering if he would fight that particular idea. He caught a sigh and a brief roll of the eyes, then Kuwabara sighed and nodded.

"He'd find him. I mean, unless there was something fucking with his eye."

"Why do you always have to be such a fucking downer?" Yuusuke shrugged his jacket up over his shoulders and turned down the street. "Come on, grumpy. Let's see if Botan knows anything, first."

* * *

_This is what triumph feels like._

Funny how Tadashi had to tell himself these things. He stood facing the tall windows of his penthouse – a beautiful place in the center of the city, the whole building was his, bought on blood and cunning – and stared over the Tokyo cityscape, blurred with heavy rain and lit every so often by the sweet and fickle arcs of lightning dancing between the clouds. All the lights were down here; even the digital readouts on the appliances in his obscenely large kitchen and on the enormous entertainment system had been cut off. The only illumination came from the sky, the city, and the glowing red sphere in his hand.

He had examined it carefully on his way home from the acquisition. He had been surprised by the _purity_ of the light, the brightness of it. When he had first pulled it from Kurama it had nearly blinded him, and even now his eyes ached to behold it. Even sheltered in his hands the light was enough to light the entire room, swallowing whatever light happened to be near it and reflecting that light tenfold.

Initially, he had been surprised. He hadn't expected the sphere to be so bright or nearly so powerful, not after being trapped in that human shell for two decades. And considering that so much of the fox's energy surely had been expended to keep him from death and find a new body… well. Youko had been stronger than he had anticipated.

He cupped the jewel in his hands, turning it so the flawed part of the surface was visible in the gap between his thumbs. _That_ light, white as fire, shot between his fingers like a beacon, flooding the ceiling, lighting the room as if it were day. He turned his hands so the beam of light would spill out the windows, shooting out over the city as a lighthouse beam. He covered the light seconds later, pulling the gem close to his heart, a smile finally pulling at his lips. All that light, his. All that power, _his._

_As it should be._

The sound of hydraulic machinery – the elevator that served as entrance and exit to his home – and he was brought quickly and violently back to reality. He turned, gripping the gem in one hand so that only the faintest glow could be seen though his skin. He knew who his visitor was, and knew that this was the real reason he had killed all the lights in the building.

He knew, also, that the power in his hand now, what he had coveted most of his life, was not _entirely_ his anymore.

The elevator door to his penthouse opened, flooding the place for a brief moment with stark, fluorescent light. There was only one figure in the elevator tonight, which bothered him. Though it had been many years since he had seen this particular guest, he had never been alone.

"He" was a term used loosely. Tadashi had never seen his guest's face, and "he" never spoke above a smooth whisper. Though the body was tall and lean, shoulders broad as a man's, the grace with which the body moved was all woman, a way no man could ever have reproduced. Always in shadow or silhouette came his visitor, quietly instructing him over the years since they had met.

"I am surprised to see you alone this time," Tadashi said, bowing slightly at the waist. "Is our business partner indisposed?"

"_Sakyo is dead. I thought you knew,_" his visitor replied. "_Several years ago, in fact. Though, it was before then that we last met. I don't expect you to keep an eye on everything."_ Was that a veiled insult? Kindness? Humor? Tadashi did not know. Though, the loss of Sakyo pained him. The gambling man had been an invaluable business partner, and infinitely better company than their whispering friend.

"An unfortunate passing," he acknowledged. He turned and reached for the warded cloth he had made especially for the gem, transferring it from hand to ward smoothly so that no light reached his visitor. This rule he had never broken, though if it was out of fear for seeing his friend's true form or simple honor he didn't quite know.

"_He chose his passing. I see you have succeeded in your task,"_ the visitor said, effectively dropping the subject of Sakyo. Of course, Sakyo was of no concern to either of them anymore. He had done his job, and as far as the visitor was concerned, done it well. Tadashi would mourn his friend later, by himself.

"I have. It was simpler than I had expected."

"_I told you the fox would come along readily. Poor thing, he doesn't understand how easy he is to manipulate."_

Poor thing? Those weren't exactly the words Tadashi would have chosen. After all, if it had not been for Kurama, he wouldn't have had to torture his brother all these decades, wouldn't have to deal with his mysterious visitor, wouldn't have lost the affection of dear Akira, who had vanished in a rage after Kuronue's capture.

No, certainly not 'poor thing' at all.

"It was as you said, and the task is finished. What would you ask of me now?"

Silence for a moment, the visitor was still and silent. Tadashi imagined he could see a glitter of reflected light where eyes would be, but brushed that away as nonsense. He longed for a brief, destructive moment to see the visitor's face, to know what he was, and longed at that same moment of a flash of lightning, for the penthouse lights to suddenly go up of their own volition. These traitorous thoughts left him between one breath and the next as he waited impatiently for his next mission.

"_We will wait, for now. Once your brother awakens and the fox divines some way to escape that charming dungeon of yours, _we_ will divine our next step."_

"You _want_ them to escape?"

"_I dare not prevent it."_

"But-"  
"_Wait. Relax. Enjoy your star as you have it now. We have time now for leisure. I will visit you again tomorrow evening. I have a gift for you."_ With that, the visitor's shadow turned, again silhouetted by the light from the elevator, and he left, leaving Tadashi in the cold, lonely darkness of his home.

* * *

"Haven't we been here before?" Kuwabara grumbled, hunched under his jacket, hands fisted in the pockets but arms stretched out enough that he could shield Botan from the rain where she was sitting on the ground with her 'detective kit' spread out before them. Yuusuke was crouched next to her, picking up and examining the tools within, only half listening to Botan's explanations as she sorted through the items he hadn't played with yet.

"Well, _I_ wasn't here, at least. What's this one for?" Yuusuke said, picking up something that looked like an eyelash curler.

"That's for clairvoyance, but only girls can use it," Botan explained. "We've been experimenting with new things now that there's enough free time without maintaining the barrier. Think we should try the whistle again?"

"No," Kuwabara answered. While he hadn't been subject to the thing the first time, the way Kurama had described the sound and the way Hiei had dropped out of the tree was enough testimony that he didn't want to have to hear it. "Besides, I'll bet you money he's in Makai somewhere. Why don't you just _go_ there and get him?"

"Why don't _you?" _Yuusuke shot back, making a face at him. "Fuck if I'm going to haul my ass back over there. You know what'll happen? Here, here's my impression of Hokushin: My lord! You have to do ten billion things now and ten billion other things at the same time and live up to Raizen blah blah demon heritage blah bladity blah. No, thank you, I'd rather not."

"You two _do_ know it's one in the morning, raining, and I don't have to be here, right?" Botan shot them both a cold glare. Though she didn't technically "sleep," it was still a hassle leaving the nice and comfortable Reikai palace to sit around two grouchy young men for what would probably end up being a really stupid reason."Maybe Kurama doesn't _want_ to be found. I mean, if I had to hang around you two more than I already do, I'd probably not want to be found either."

"You're the sweetest, Botan," Yuusuke snatched another item from the kit, turning it over in his hands before setting it down again. "Don't you have, like, an inter-dimensional phone or something?"

"Well, yeah, but it doesn't work if he's not around another one to pick up the call. There are like… three in Makai."

"Figures. Shit…" Yuusuke stood, running a hand through his soaked hair and looking around irritably. "And we don't have anything we can track him with unless we break into his house or something, and I'm not dumb enough to do it while he isn't there to keep the attack plants away."

"Damn, I was hoping you would anyway," Kuwabara joked, stepping back far enough to avoid a swing from Yuusuke. "What else can we do for now?"

They all looked at each other for some time, no one willing to go out and say that the best course, at least for now, would be to wait.

"I'll go back and put out a low-level alert for operatives to keep an eye out for him," Botan sighed, closing up the kit and hoisting it over her shoulder. "I really think we should try the whistle, though. I mean, we got lucky last time, but you never know…"

"No way is Hiei just hanging around here in this weather," Yuusuke snorted. "I can go home and print out lost dog posters with Kurama's picture on 'em."

"He'll kill you twice," Kuwabara said, "and I won't stop him. I'll keep thinking Kurama-like thoughts and see if I get anything," he nodded to them both and turned back towards his part of town. Botan summoned her oar and shrugged at Yuusuke, a half smile on her face.

"I bet he's fine, really. You know Kurama, always ten steps ahead." She was gone before Yuusuke could comment back, and he was left to make his own way home, grumbling all the way.

Hiei, perched quietly high in the branches of a nearby tree, watched his former companions part ways and vanished, only the barest rustling of a branch to mark his passage.

* * *

Hiei was not sure why he was here. Ningenkai held little interest for him now. He knew Yukina was well taken care of, even if he didn't entirely trust Kuwabara's bias that, while most demons were awful, Yukina was number one in his book. The light of adolescent love would surely die down eventually, and human instinct would take over. It was the way of things: love never lasted. He'd tasted that fruit before himself, and the initial sweetness had turned bitter over time.

He didn't mourn the loss of it. What he did mourn was the hours of lost time he had spent this night following Yuusuke and Kuwabara around, listening to their circular conversations – Kuwabara asking just what had gone wrong in whatever conversation Yuusuke had engaged with Kurama, Yuusuke deliberately skirting the question, and continuing like that _ad nauseum_ – and getting rained on. The last irritated him the most; he'd learned to accept that both his former companions were almost complete idiots and had learned to deal with it.

He stopped, both his thoughts and his movement, perching near the chimney stack of some department store or another. He kept his hands inside his cloak, jagan already exposed and searching over the city. It was difficult with the rain and the lightning – now losing its fire but still more storm than anything else – but he could track the motion of Kurama's energy through the city easily. After all, he'd spent years learning it as well as he knew his own, by now he could pick Kurama out of a crowd of millions, even if he didn't want to be seen.

_He used the trains several times, most recently towards Kyoto. _

Towards the direction the storm was taking. _Lovely._ He braced himself a moment and then dropped off the building, catching himself on another, hopscotching over streetlamps and towards the _shinkansen_ station. He wouldn't be able to catch a train at this hour, and even if they ran this late he'd have to resort to clinging to the top of it for the duration of the trip for lack of human money. But that was where the trail led, and he could be sure that whatever temple Kurama had taken himself to was near a train station.

It took him bare moments to cross the city, and he wasn't near tiring. He followed the trail of energy along to the limits of his vision, due west to Kyoto.

_If he's in Kyoto, he'll probably be at Fushimi Inari. _Not too far. He would be shocked if it took him longer than an hour at a run. Destination firmly in his mind, Hiei set off again, speed rivaling that of the still trains in the station below.

* * *

_Two A.M. and all's well,_ Kurama thought to himself. More exploring the pit had allowed him to find his cell phone – devoid of any reception, of course – the dead bits of rose vine he'd tried to attack Tadashi with, and many fistfuls of Kuronue's molted feathers. Kuronue himself was still out, probably comatose, and hadn't stirred more than a breath since Kurama awoke. Kurama sat near him now, resting his uninjured hand on Kuronue's shoulder, eyes facing the mouth of the pit. A sick part of him half expected Tadashi to come back with a bucket and a small yippy dog, making comments about lotion and a hose. He shook that from his head; the humor seemed just a little too inappropriate.

If he'd have been conscious enough to better break his fall (or at least keep his arm from breaking, as he was sure it must be, by now) he might have been able to climb the walls, using the deep gouges in the walls as hand and foot holds. That must have tormented Kuronue, to have easy ladders to freedom, but unable to even touch the walls for the charms. It tormented Kurama now, plaguing him with thoughts of 'if only' and 'why didn't I.'

_Blame is useless,_ he reminded himself. _Even if it is accurate. _He'd cursed himself for the first hour, silently raging at his own ineptitude, how he had so easily allowed himself to be lead by the ear into a trap. And even beyond that… what the hell was he going to do when Kuronue finally woke up? What could he _say?_ 'Good morning, Kuronue, sorry it took me fifty years to find you?' And even then that was assuming that Kuronue would know it was _him,_ without his youki, Kurama was just a human, just Shuuichi.

The same thoughts had looped for the last few hours, stuck on endless repeat. There was nothing he could do now but sit and wait for something to happen, whether it be Kuronue waking up or Tadashi returning to kill them both. It was on this thought that he heard footsteps, and an icy dread crawled its way up his spine, freezing him to the spot. He stared at the mouth of the pit, knowing he wouldn't be able to _see_ Tadashi, but wanting to at least give some impression of expectance. It took an agonizing long while for those paces to stop, and another moment of silence before words reached him.

"What have you done now, stupid fox?"

Hiei. _Hiei_, thank every god for that ornery bastard, of all the people who would find him…

"Just had a little fall, is it," Kurama answered casually, forcing away tears of relief. "I don't suppose you brought a ladder?"

* * *

Hiei hadn't brought a ladder, of course, but it took little effort for him to pull both Kurama and Kuronue out of the pit and to freedom. After all, the wards weren't made to hold _him_.

Relieved, in pain, and now feeling the slow claws of exhaustion sinking into him, Kurama leaned against the door of the metal building, noticing that, unless he was touching it, he couldn't see the structure with his human eyes. _That explains why none of the priests or visitors ever found the place._ How had he not noticed that earlier? Why did he even care at this point?

"What's the prognosis, Hiei?" he asked, to distract himself from more uncomfortable thoughts. Hiei was crouched next to Kuronue, examining him carefully with the jagan, one hand on Kuronue's forehead.

"He's alive, but he won't wake up for some time. Having that much energy pulled from him in the way you described was enough to put him in mild shock. We can take him to Yukina, see about healing him. And you, for that matter. Your arm looks like a gaki got to it."

"I don't expect that you're offering to carry us both back to Tokyo," Kurama sighed, bushing away from the metal dungeon. _Why here? Why at a temple of Inari, of all places? Why not trap him in Makai?_

"I think I can call a cab if we get farther down the mountain, if you're willing."

"I can carry him, if you can walk," Hiei demonstrated by hoisting Kuronue over one shoulder. It was a funny sight; Hiei looked like a child carrying an overlarge stuffed animal.

"Think a cab driver would buy the 'we got smashed and beaten at a costume party' story?" Kurama asked, starting down the small path to the temple, using the screen of his cell phone as a makeshift flashlight. He'd have trouble explaining away Kuronue's clothing; while not the outfit he had worn when Kurama had last seen him, the tattered, dusty clothes were in demon fashion, which to humans meant 'old, and not in the cool traditional way.'

"Pay him enough up front and you won't have to explain anything," Hiei muttered, easily keeping in Kurama's stride.

"Good point."

They were silent a time, wandering down the mountain through rain that was filtered by the heavy canopy. Thunder continued to rumble overhead, but there was no lightning close enough to pierce through the gloom. Here it was damp, misty, and mysterious, a scene right out of a movie. More thoughts ran panic-circles through Kurama's mind, the most prominent of which being how Had found him, how he had even known to _look._

"Hiei," he began, the question intent in his mind.

"Don't ask," short, sharp, just like Hiei always was. Of course Hiei wouldn't tell him why. Of course it was stupid to ask. Of course it would be stupid to say the words that were coming out of his mouth _right now,_

"And here I thought you didn't like me," his tone was far too bright and airy, too mocking. Maybe he had cracked his skull a bit harder than he'd initially thought; otherwise he might never have blurted out something so… unkind.

Hiei, however, did not respond. They continued again in silence, through the soft patter of rain, until they reached the bottom of the temple steps and Kurama rang for a cab. Then they waited, still covered by that silence, Kurama periodically glancing though the gloom to Hiei, still holding up Kuronue—god, it was so surreal he couldn't even react properly. Ideally, he would be jumping for joy at seeing that Kuronue was alive and arguably well… alive, at least. He would have been _happy._ Where was that? Happiness? Shouldn't it be filling him up the way people always described, 'unbridled joy' and all that? Shouldn't he at least be _smiling_ instead of finding ways not only to cut down himself, but Hiei, who was nothing less than both their savior?

The arrival of the cab, punctuated by a small tidal wave of muddy water, cut off these thoughts for now, and he gestured for Hiei to get in first so they could maneuver Kuronue in together.

The cabbie, as was his duty, said nothing, merely waiting for his directions. But Kurama could feel his eyes, certainly, and didn't these newer cabs come with video cameras? He couldn't pay with credit then, if he didn't want some overly curious security supervisor tracking his information and asking questions about he and his ragged friends.

For the second time that night, much to Kurama's horror, Hiei saved him. He caught the brief violet glow from beneath Hiei's headband and the muttered "drive" just as he was about to buckle in, and the cab pulled away from the curb smooth as anything and onto the street.

And again, a lapse into silence. Kuronue was propped between them, his head leaning on Kurama's uninjured shoulder, with Hiei supporting him from the other side so he didn't move around too much.

The lights of the city were watery and dead, and grew fewer as they moved out of Kyoto and into faux-countryside. The land was all developed, either family- or business-owned farmland; rice and vegetables and some livestock farms. Old-growth forest still had a foothold here, tall bamboo and maple only a few shades darker than the gray-black of the stormy sky shuffled in the wind, and even with his weak ears and over the sound of the car he could hear them moaning under the weight of the wind. The rain and thunder was weaker here, but the wind was a relentless master, and it bent nature here to its will.

It would be a very long time before they reached Tokyo, and even then, it was still a very long time before Kurama got up the courage to rest his hand in Kuronue's unresponsive but warm palm, trying to take that little comfort for the wait that lay ahead.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when they arrived in Tokyo, and only a little longer after they were in Roppongi and outside Kurama's apartment building. The air was still and damp; it hadn't cooled off even a tiny bit after the storm. The cabby, still under the influence of the Jagan, said nothing when they exited his cab, but a cursory glance to the tab counter dropped another sick brick of guilt into Kurama's stomach and he ended up paying the enormous price anyway, reminding himself to come up with a plausible explanation to the late-night cross-country trip if anyone _did_ ask. Then, with Hiei on one side and himself on the other, they hoisted Kuronue up and half-carried, half-dragged him into the building, thankfully bypassing the weekend morning greeter, Mai (if Kurama remembered correctly) who was probably flirting with one of the parking security guys.

Still silent. Still letting Kurama have his mind run into walls, run in circles, chase its tail. Hiei had said nothing during the entire drive, and Kuronue was of course still comatose. So he had been left to think.

It had not been good to him.

He began to remember as he thought. Remember things about Kuronue that he hadn't taken much stock in when they had been together. Like his general dislike for humans, for one. Or his traditional bent to eat human flesh on occasion.

_He could kill you, you know._ It wasn't his own voice he heard in his head now, but the voice of Tadashi, soothing and mocking all at once. _If you fall asleep, if you drop your guard, he'll kill you. _

_Even if you don't, he'll never believe you are who you say you are._

_Youko Kurama, taking the form of a human child? It is to laugh!_

No, it had certainly not been a good silence.

The elevator hummed as they were raised up to his floor, soothing muzak playing over the intercom, some jazzy version of an old Misora Hibari song. Something something as the river flows, time passes through the ages, _I'm going to stop listening to this song, now…_

The song was only halfway through when they reached the fourteenth floor, and the walk to his door was blessedly short. The last difficulty was digging his keys out of his pocket – the right pocket, which happened to be his injured side. He might have asked Hiei for help, but some damnable sense of pride kept him from it, and he gritted his teeth through the pain, even going so far as turning the key in the lock and opening the door before his knees began to shake from the pain.

Hiei took over then, knowing perhaps more than Kurama would have wanted to give him credit for, pointing Kurama to a chair in the kitchen and rolling Kuronue off his shoulder and onto the couch. Kurama sat gratefully, moving only when Misa jumped on the table to greet him, sniffing at the blood, dampness, and general unruly presentation of her pet person before butting her head against his shoulder and settling in his lap.

Hiei turned from the couch, setting a lazy glance between Kurama and Kuronue before taking a chair for himself, propping his feet up on a third chair. He crossed his arms, hunched down until he was comfortable, and leveled Kurama with a long, piercing gaze.

Kurama, embarrassed, prideful, and still unsure how to react to Hiei after they had been apart so long, did not look back.

It was another long while before the silence was finally broken.

"Tell me everything," Hiei said. Simple, unadorned, and open. Kurama hated him for it, as evenly as he used to love it.

But, just like that, Kurama told.

* * *

There was a feeling of motion.

Kuronue had not felt such a thing – at least, not to this degree – in many years. _Decades._ For all that time, all he had felt was the subtle movement of the earth, echoed and magnified by the metal cage that had held him. It had been, he guessed, an unwitting addition to his prison, and as such was his only way of telling time but for cold and heat, his only companion during that long time.

The great mother, and only her distant voice for so, so long.

And now motion. Warmth. A _hand_ on his own, and – for the sake of all the gods – he could not wake himself up to see, but he could feel, and the touch he felt was alien and unfamiliar. But quiet, tentative, good… it was not Tadashi's hand, though his brother's words may have been kind at every visit, and his proclaimed intentions somehow for the betterment of whoever, but this was…

Was…

Sleep again, the movement rocked him like a mother's cradle.

Oh, _music._ God, when was the last time he had heard music? Where was he going? This motion, being carried? _Out_ of the prison?

The movement stopped again, and he was laid down, and the world emptied itself into dreamless sleep once more.

_Voices._ Two of them. Unfamiliar, cold, one felt…

_I am in danger._

"And _how_ long were you down there?" The first voice, black and dark and unkind.

"Three or four hours. It was sundown when he led me in." The second, softer, but even colder than the first. Kuronue could smell blood.

"What about him, then? Surely you can't keep him on your couch until Tadashi-"

"I _know_ that! Don't you think I know that? What was I supposed to do, leave him there? Here is as good a place as any, and we can find out exactly what happened from him once he wakes."

_I am awake, now, and you…_

Kuronue moved. He did not need to listen more, and his hands were faster than his mind now. Onto his feet, at that second voice, reaching. He had not stayed idle in those years of solitude.

* * *

Kurama turned in time to feel hands closing around his throat and lifting him off the ground. He scrabbled at the grip, trying to gasp for air, get away, anything. He saw out of his eye Hiei jumping from his chair, grabbing one of the knives from the counter in lieu of his katana.

_Where is that, anyway? He's never without it. I can't breathe._

"You..." Kuronue ground out. His voice was rough and cold from disuse. Kurama could see the point of the bread-knife in Hiei's hand press dangerously into the flesh of Kuronue's throat. "_Who are you? Who sent you? Where am I?"_

Kuronue was rambling, grip tight, eyes wild and intensely focused. Kurama tried to gasp out a response, mouth working, no sound escaping. Hiei pressed the tip of the knife further into Kuronue's skin, drawing blood, and after a moment Kuronue dropped him, between them as Kurama gasped for air, putting up a hand to ward him off.

"_Who?"_ Kuronue asked again, voice like ice.

"K... Yuh... Youko," he began, then a sick creeping feeling surged up his back, and the words poured out unbidden.

"Youko sent me to find you."

* * *

10/13/2008

Dedicated to BlueUtopiah on her very fabulous birthday! Which is technically tomorrow.

This chapter should not have taken as long as it did, but I'm glad I waited. Half-formed ideas baked into a nice big cake over the last few months, it seems! (As well as other things – I dropped out of school, moved to the other side of the country, and got a job… all is well, I believe…) But hopefully the next chapter will not be so long in the coming.

Thank you again, everyone, for staying with the story so long. I appreciate all your kindness and support!

Please comment, if you see any errors or flaws, or just want to stroke my ego a little bit (I won't pretend; I love praise) I love hearing from all of you!

'Til next time,

Fawx


	7. Working it Out

Chapter 7

Working it Out

* * *

"Stop," Youko demanded. "Again."

Kuronue landed, harder than before, on his feet. His breath was heavy and ragged. He could see steam rising off his mostly bare skin like off the water of a hotspring. A week, that was all it had been, and he was already regretting his fixation with the arrogant, driving, drill sergeant of a fox. He was already wishing he'd stayed home so he could curl up for the winter with his nieces and nephews and forget all about ever wanting to be a thief. He was cold, hungry, tired, and sure that Youko was only allowing him to stay so he could sit back and watch him suffer.

Youko was not sitting back now, though. His back was rigid and he watched with a hawk-like attentiveness, eyes narrowed and watching for any flaw, however minuscule. Had his leg not been broken, he would be pacing around, following Kuronue's movement with his own, watching from every angle. Perfection, it seemed, was an impossible goal; Youko hadn't given him the barest nod of approval since they had begun.

This is how it began, and this was how it would continue. Barring the first day, when Youko was still filled with enough opium to drug an elephant and throwing half-hearted death threats at Kuronue, they were up every morning, two hours before the frigid dawn, training.

Well, "training" was a very gentle word for it, in Kuronue's estimation. "Torture" could fit better, or maybe "cruel and unusual punishment." Kuronue was sure that this was payback for having indirectly broken Youko's leg to begin with. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his (numb, freezing) feet and waited for Youko's signal to start the motion again.

The exercise itself was simple dodge-and-attack. Youko would summon bamboo spikes from the ground, and Kuronue would dodge them all while attacking and destroying little clay discs that Youko whipped at him. He hadn't yet managed to take out all the discs, and suspected he wasn't going to, but he hadn't been hit by any of the spikes since the second morning, when one of them left a nasty gash over one shoulder as a stinging reminder of his failure.

While Youko regarded him coolly, he checked himself, making sure his wings were held tight to his body; that all the feathers were in line. He longed briefly to have the strength of magic to change his shape the way his name dictated, but knew that would be a long time coming, so suffered that silently. No wings would make this so much easier.

He waited, his eyes passing over the courtyard and the marks his feet and the spikes had made. Here and there little dimples of snow marked the fall of a clay disc, or pieces of one. That was another hazard; he'd have to watch for the pieces and missed discs to assure he wouldn't slip on one and decapitate himself.

The sun was desperately slow in coming, even though he could see the first streaks of grey dawn on the horizon, it would be too longbefore Amaterasu had made her way up the sky far enough to warm him even the tiniest bit. He cursed inwardly.

He waited.

Finally, Youko raised his arm, and Kuronue crouched, feeling the rumbling surge of energy as roots violently burst forth from seeds and took their place in the frozen earth. One second, two seconds, and he leapt, timing his jump with the growing of the spikes, kicking off from one, somersaulting over others, and was surprised not to hear the incoming whistle of a disc, but to see that the spikes were now growing out as well as up and were following him as he moved. In the space between one second and the next he caught Youko's eye, daring him to add something more.

_I'll show you how worthy I am, you horrible, beautiful monster_, he thought, grinning madly as he jumped and twisted and swung, dodging deadly plantlife with something that would almost be considered ease, if he wasn't still so gods damned cold.

* * *

Youko watched.

Kuronue was good. He'd trained by himself before this, even for one so young. He had not even lived the full term of a human's lifespan, let alone long enough to register any kind of importance for a demon. Youko wondered why he was even bothering himself training Kuronue, and doubted the Tengu would live to see next winter.

He was impetuous, defiant, spoiled… truly the son of a self-proclaimed king in every way. He'd never gone on a heist that required more than minimal effort, never in the dead of winter or the heavy, oppressive heat of the rainy season. He'd been in it for the cheap thrill and the reward of pretty baubles, nothing else. The rebel son, granting a loud "fuck you" to his father just for the hell of it.

_Why am I even bothering?_

There were plenty of answers to that. Because he was bored. Because he liked the thought of corrupting Sōjōbō's youngest son. Because he was lonely.

Oh yes, lonely. That word, that entire _concept_ lingered, loitering at the very edge of his thoughts as he trained the spoiled prince. The spoiled prince who had held him all through that first night, or what he could remember of it. He hadn't moved a hair. He had stayed, for no reason.

_He could have easily left, and I wouldn't have noticed at all,_ he thought, turning the branches into a spiral trap, watching Kuronue expertly escape. Beginner's luck, surely. Youko wouldn't let him sit in the illusion that he was good enough to get through anything. He'd indulged that in Yomi, and had lost him for it. He still felt that betrayal bitterly, like salt being rubbed in a wound.

Kuronue executed a particularly difficult move, dodging well out of the way of a trap that would have been the death of any lesser creature. Youko almost applauded him, and stopped when Kuronue flashed him a cheeky grin.

No, he couldn't think he was good enough, yet. He'd have to learn the hard way.

"Again."

* * *

Hiei was not one often taken with horror. Ask him, and if you received an answer, it would merely be to tell you that you were a fool for even suggesting that he showed such weakness. It was vanity, but an allowable vanity, and true: the emotion rarely settled with him.

But now, standing in Kurama's kitchen with only a flimsy bread-knife and his own speed between Kurama and almost certain death, he was horrified.

_He could die right now. He could die and be gone forever,_ over and over the thought turned, panicked, but he kept the knife still and his body ready, sharp enough to kill the very old demon in front of him if he needed to. Deeper in his mind, he cursed himself. _Let him die, all he brings you is trouble. Case in point: Right now. Look at yourself, Hiei, really…_

_Stop thinking._

_Listen._

"Youko sent me to find you," and the horror took a completely different turn. Now it was horror and anger.

The lie spilled out and the room changed. Kuronue loosened his grasp on Kurama's neck, and Hiei put the knife away. Kurama seemed to curl in on himself, in pain or fear Hiei could only guess, and they moved in slow concert until they no longer touched, just an invisible line of sight. For that moment, Kurama and Kuronue stared each other down, and Hiei ceased to exist, wholly separate from their world for a breath, a heartbeat, another painfully long stretch of silence.

And then, Kuronue spoke.

"Youko… has forgotten me," Hiei's eyes were on Kuronue, but he could feel the painful shock from Kurama. Even without using his Jagan, he'd be able to feel it. The words hit Kurama like a vicious slap.

_No, _the thought came to Hiei unbidden, _he never forgot you. After all, he left me for your memory… _bitter. The thought was as bitter as the feeling and he stepped back, away, both body and mind leaving that thought behind.

_Why are you here, Hiei?_

"Youko has not; he sent me to search for you," Kurama's voice was small, like a child's. Hiei wanted to go to him, push Kuronue away, make him gone again. He also wanted Kurama to suffer, to suffocate himself in his own lie.

"Youko-_sama_," Kuronue growled, an instant reprimand. Hiei smothered a reprimand of his own. He could not be anything but uninvolved in this, for now; an inconsequential decoration of the setting who just so happened to have a knife at the ready should Kuronue decide he didn't like talking to this human after all.

Once more, silence. They continued to stare each other down: Kuronue disbelieving, Kurama – apparently – still in shock. He was milk-white, and Hiei could see the soft blue lines of blood veins under his skin. He'd never seen such a thing before on Kurama. It was strange.

A rush of heat let Hiei know that Kuronue's eyes were on him now._ Don't look at me, you dead bastard. Don't look at me, don't speak to me…_

"Is what this human tells me true?" Kuronue asked. Kurama winced at the venomous hate in Kuronue's voice. Hiei did not look at either of them. He focused on the wall, the cat, anything.

"It is," Hiei answered, as if his mouth had forced him to speak. _Why are you encouraging this?!_

Kuronue sneered at him, but stepped away.

"So where is he, then? Still loath to come see me now, after all this time?" his voice was bitter, sharp. Hateful.

For one traitorous moment, Hiei almost felt sorry for the both of them.

"I don't know," Kurama said very softly. His eyes were closed and he was pressed against the wall as if he was trying to become a part of it.

Kuronue continued to glare at both of them. "He was here recently. I can smell him."

"He's been gone since yesterday," Kurama murmured. Technically, it wasn't even a lie. Neither he nor Hiei knew where Tadashi had taken the _kitsune-bi_ and Kurama's youki with it. "I don't know when he will return-"

"Bastard," Kuronue hissed, startling Kurama again into silence. "What now, then? Am I to sit and wait for him to come and call?" He continued to glare at Kurama, but the question was directed at Hiei.

"Do what you like. The only task I know of was to get you released from your prison," Hiei snapped back. Kuronue snorted, Kurama made no addition to this comment.

Hiei felt the very rational urge to stab something.

Another long silence settled over the room as Kuronue looked between him, his eyes cold and reflecting nothing of a mind which – in Hiei's reckoning – must surely have gone completely mad during those decades of dark solitary confinement.

"I am going to go kill my brother," Kuronue remarked, his voice taking on an almost wistful tone. "And then I will return to speak to Youko. I may kill him as well."

He turned then, glancing about the apartment and catching sight of the tall window-doors with the balcony reaching out over the city. He strode to them purposefully, wings unfurling on his back. He threw the glass door open, letting in a hot blast of damp air, and stood out on the balcony, looking down for a moment before jumping, his wings flailing for just a moment before carrying him high, high into the sky. Hiei followed as far as the window, watching him turn to nothing but a ragged speck in the distance.

_I hope he gets sucked into a jet turbine, _he thought viciously_._ He closed the door and turned to face Kurama, who was still curled up against the wall. Misa, in her catlike wisdom, had made herself mostly scarce during the conversation, but was now meowing worriedly and rubbing against Kurama, as if to give him help, or courage.

Hiei watched him not respond for a short time before he left the windows. He walked to Kurama, pausing to grab the cell phone of the table, and sat next to him.

He was entirely too gratified when Kurama leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder.

* * *

Yukina loved Kuwabara very much. However, she hated his ringtone. At least, when it was one of Megallica's more psychotic songs dinging from the tiny, tinny speakers at five in the morning, from the living room, and not nearly loud enough to wake up a man who would have slept through the apocalypse if his friends hadn't forced him out of bed.

She really did love him, though. Just not his phone.

She sighed, pushing herself out of her comfortable bed and padding into the hallway that separated their rooms, sending a slightly miffed look at his door, which was half open, showing that he was indeed home and dead asleep. The phone continued to insist her attention.

She reached the offending device, not bothering to look at the number display.

"Kazuma's phone," she sighed, still tired, "Yukina speaking." There was a pause on the other end, punctuated by an intake of breath.

"…Hello?" she said, confused, tired, it is far too early for telephone pranks…

"Yukina," Hiei's voice said to her on the other end. He sounded… relieved.

"Hiei, I didn't know you had a cell phone," she blurted. There was a pause, and a sound like maybe he could have been laughing, if that was something Hiei did. It filled her with an unexpected happiness.

"I don't, I'm using Kurama's phone. He's…" another pause "been hurt. He needs a healer."

That was enough to shake Yukina out of both her exhaustion and the little euphoria, and she stood up a little straighter, now intent on business.

"What happened?" She asked, glancing back at Kuwabara's door. He was still snoring away.

"I do not think it is wise to discuss over the phone," he said, and his voice faded in an out for just a moment.

"I understand. Are you at Kurama's apartment?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there in half an hour," she said, already turning back to her room to dress.

"Thank you," he said. And then he was gone.

Yukina smiled at the cell phone and dropped it on an accent table in the hallway, disappearing into her room to change out of her pajamas. When she emerged again, Shizuru was standing in the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. _I didn't even know she was awake, _Yukina thought, startled.

"Shizuru, I'm sorry if I woke you…"

"_You_ didn't," Shizuru sighed, handing her a mug. "That damn phone did. What's wrong?"

"Hiei called."

Shizuru lifted an eyebrow at that, but made no comment.

"He says he is with Kurama, and that Kurama has been hurt. I'm going to his apartment now to see what I can do." Yukina stared into her mug for a moment, seeming very unsure.

Shizuru took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and set the mug down. "Gimme five minutes and I'll drive you. The trains are hell this early in the day."

* * *

Kurama was still pale and in apparent shock, but he was reacting now, if only slightly. Yukina gently talked him through the process of setting his wrist, explained each step she took to heal him.

Shizuru, impartial and stoic as she ever was, sat with one hand leaning over the back of her chair and the other firmly guarding a cigarette. She, unlike her brother, was uninterested in dramatics or hysterics. There had been a moment when Hiei imagined that she would have liked to start yelling when she saw the state Kurama had put himself in, but had dismissed the urge. Instead she gave Hiei a piercing look, pulled a cigarette out of her pocket, and said simply; "I forgot my lighter."

He obliged, and lit it for her.

Now they sat together, watching Kurama shake and Yukina try to calm him. Already Yukina had taken charge, directing Hiei and Shizuru to find blankets, put on tea, and keep quiet while she set Kurama's bones back in their proper place. All was quiet afterwards, but for one loud, wet pop when she put Kurama's shoulder back into well working order. Hiei was impressed; neither Yukina nor Shizuru had flinched.

Another noise from Yukina and Kurama's end of the room, this time of bandages being ripped from a roll. _She came prepared,_ Hiei thought, feeling a great swell of affection and pride. Wasn't it only a few years ago that she feared being a healer, that she only used her power when the situation was desperate? She had never thought to use bandages or antiseptic or to learn to set a bone back then. Had she grown up so well and quickly?

Shizuru quietly interrupted his train of thought. The hand that had been dangling now held her cell phone; popped open as if she were reading the thing. It made a small noise, and she snapped it shut.

"That was a text from Kazuma," she informed the room. "He's getting Urameshi and they'll be here soonish." She cast a glance to Hiei, and said under her breath, "You may want to get while the getting's good... Kazu's in one of those moods."

Hiei knew what she meant. One of those _loud_ moods. "You still don't know what happened," he pointed out, "and he is in no state to tell you."

Shizuru shrugged, but acquiesced. She took a long drag of her cigarette.

Yukina turned momentarily from her work to look at him. Her expression was frighteningly unreadable. "Kurama-san has been through something very terrible," she started, glancing at her patient, who was still far enough gone that he probably didn't hear her. "If you know what happened, it would be better to tell soon so I can start to fix the problems that go along with it."

A pause, long and still, and Hiei turned his gaze from Yukina to Kurama. No help there - he was gone for now. Since Kuronue had left he'd said little to nothing, and even when he did speak he was almost completely monosyllabic.

Hiei sighed. "It is a long story; I don't want to have to repeat myself," he muttered. Yukina nodded and turned back to Kurama.

Shizuru spoke then. "Those two idiots should be here any minute... just wait 'til they get here and give us the whole story. Til then," she stood, sighed, and stretched, stubbing out her cigarette and wandering over to the kitchen, "I'm making food. Either eat what I make or don't bitch, I'm not a short-order cook."

* * *

"So he's gone to wonderland?" Yuusuke said, kneeling in front of Kurama and trying to get him to respond. He succeeded, if a half-hearted wave of the hand and looking away was what a response from Kurama should have been.

"He's in shock, you ass," Shizuru muttered. She had lit another cigarette and was now sitting on the balcony, leaning over the rail to watch the city below. Her attempt at breakfast had been thwarted, due to Kurama having bare cupboards but for some dry cat food. "Haven't you seen someone in shock before?"

"That's a stupid question, I see Kuwabara almost every da-"

"You shut your mouth, Urameshi!"

"Make me, assho-"

Hiei pounded his fist on the table, effectively cutting them off. Yukina flinched, and gave them all her version of a glare.

"You two aren't really helping this along," she said, though her voice was about as severe as a baby rabbit. "Please don't fight..."

Kuwabara began to apologize profusely, blubbering for a moment before Yuusuke smacked him to make him stop. "Sorry, Yukina. So, what happens now? Wait 'til he snaps out of it?" Yuusuke flopped down at the table, swinging his feet out in front of him in an unruly sprawl.

"He'll be okay… he's not actually in _shock,_ just… unresponsive," she laid a hand on Kurama's shoulder, and he spared her a brief glance before turning back in on himself. She sighed, and shrugged at the room at large. "A little sleep and he should be right as rain."

"I can stay with him," Kuwabara said after a moment. "I can call in a couple of favors and get someone to cover for me at work." He looked at Yuusuke, who shrugged.

"Better you'n me. I can't call off, and he's probably still pissed at me," he glanced at Kurama to see if he'd heard, or even registered that remark, but there was no response. "I gotta go soon anyway. Hiei? Shizuru?"

"I'll be here," Hiei muttered, though he was not entirely thrilled about spending time around Kuwabara. Shizuru nodded mutely and took a lungful of smoke, exhaling slowly.

"I'll stay, but if this Kuronue character shows up again, I can't promise I won't put his eye out with something." Weak laughter filled the room for a moment, and then died again. She glared around at everyone. "I'm fucking serious," she snarled, stabbing out the cigarette and standing. "One of you come with me, I'm going to go find some food."

No one made a move for a moment, and Hiei - rather than stay and watch Kuwabara stare with moon-calf eyes at Yukina - stood to join Shizuru. Kuwabara looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself before whatever thought he had got loose, and hunched his shoulders, shuffling his feet so he could stand closer to Yukina. Hiei lifted an eyebrow at him, thinking _she doesn't need _you_ to take care of her._ She was more than capable of taking care of herself.

Once they left, far down the hall and waiting for the elevator, Shizuru gave him a _look._

"You never did mention how you knew Kurama was in trouble," she said conversationally.

Hiei grunted and hunched his shoulders. "That's irrelevant," he grumbled, stabbing the elevator button with his finger, as if the action would make the contraption move at a more acceptable speed.

"Seems pretty relevant to me," she murmured, but let it go. He imagined she would ask again later.

* * *

Kuwabara had managed to convince Kurama that it was wise to lay down now, sleep until food came. He stood with his back to Kurama's bedroom door and stared out into the apartment, catching Yuusuke's eyes, then Yukina.

"He doesn't even know where he is right now, does he?" he sighed, slumping down at the table.

Yukina shook her head, Yuusuke shrugged. "You know he'll be fine, he ain't exactly easy to keep down after the first hit."

"Aw, fuck you, Urameshi. Just 'cause he hasn't gotten killed in front of you doesn't make him invincible. What're we going to do if Kuronue _does_ come back?"

"What do you mean? Kick his ass if he goes after Kurama, 'f course. Fucking stupid..."

"He doesn't _know_ Kurama is Kurama, you idiot! Did you miss that part?"

"Well, then we don't have shit to worry about," Yuusuke shrugged, tipping his chair back and putting his arms behind his head. "He ain't gonna come back if there's nothing interesting to come back to."

"That _is_ a good point," Yukina added. She had finished putting away the few supplies she had brought with her. "Kurama-san should be all right. I suppose Kuronue-san wouldn't want to come back since there was no information here."

"He _said_ he would come back," Kuwabara countered. "What if he decides to just up and kill Kurama _because_ he doesn't have any info? As it stands, Kurama and Hiei are really the only links he has to any information."

Yukina shrugged her shoulders, and Yuusuke thumped the chair back onto all four legs, giving Kuwabara a piercing look. "When the hell did you get so smart, Kuwabara?" He asked after a minute.

Yukina sighed exasperatedly, punctuating Kuwabara's return glare. "This is a big old joke to you, isn't it?" Kuwabara sat back and crossed his arms. "Get serious, Urameshi! He could be in serious danger!"

"When isn't he?" Yuusuke threw out his arms, gesturing at the room at large, "When are _any_ of us not in some kind of life-threatening peril? Fuck, I'd be shocked if he _wasn't_ about to have someone try to kill him any day of the week. People _hate_ his ass. He can handle it, he's used to this shit."

"Yeah, he's used to it when it won't fucking _kill_ him," Kuwabara growled, stabbing an accusing finger in Yuusuke's face. "This isn't some fucking temporary drain, stupid. He's _human. _If a single one of his enemies finds out about this, he's as good as buried."

Yuusuke's face twisted up into a grimace. He chewed the inside of his cheek, looked away, and shrugged.

"Okay, I can't argue with that shit. But I still think we shouldn't worry about Kuronue. He's off fucking his brother or whatever..."

Yukina interrupted him by making a disgusted noise, and Yuusuke hunched his shoulders, ducking his head. "Sorry, Yukina. Anyway, he'll be occupied for a while. Then we can figure this out. Anyway..." he stood, glanced at the clock in the kitchen, and kicked his chair back under the table. "I gotta blow, work starts in an hour. Call me if shit starts happening."

"Yeah, whatever," Kuwabara sighed. He didn't stop him from going; it wasn't as if there was anything he - or anyone - could do at this point but wait. He looked to Yukina to see if she had any comment or advice, but she seemed more interested in the cat, who had decided her lap was the happening place to be.

He shrugged his shoulders and hunkered down at the table, waiting for his sister - and Hiei - to return.

* * *

11/29/2008

To Be Continued

Thank you to Mistress of Muses and HColleen for being so wonderful and helping me edit and revise this chapter.

Comments, criticisms, marriage proposals and flames always welcome.


	8. Storm

Eight  
"Storm"

* * *

A thunderhead the size of China was lingering on the horizon. Kurama could see it from his bedroom window, and imagined that the sky was telling the city to brace itself. Find shelter, that little sneeze last night was nothing. There was blood on the wind.

Kurama was not in shock. Not in shock _any more_ was rather more accurate. Five minutes in the same room with Kuronue and Hiei had broken him apart, yes, but he was _better_ now. Better and thinking.

"Tell them I'm in shock or something," he'd said to Hiei, dropping himself into a chair. "I need to think." Hiei, thankfully, had not argued. So he sat through Yukina's care, Kuwabara's worry, Yuusuke's inane observations, and thought. He thought of how long it would take for his human body to start going into withdrawal from the lack of youki to sustain it. He thought about how many hits from a fairly accomplished fighter it would take for him to go down and stay down. He'd never had to consider the possibility of dying _permanently_ before. As a demon, there was always a way out. Even trapped in his human body, some part of his spirit would have been able to escape the ultimate end. Now there was an endless list of possibilities to consider.

If nothing else, he still had resources. The contacts he had in Makai were more solid now than they had been before he'd fled to the human world, so he wasn't at a loss for money, weapons, or information. Well, certain weapons and certain information. He didn't hold with spies; usually he'd go out and get the information he needed himself. He distrusted Yomi's spymaster, because there was no doubt the spymaster would report any findings to Yomi as well as Kurama. Yuusuke didn't have spymasters, and it would be less than wise for Kurama to ask Mukuro and make himself beholden to her in any way.

He sat on the edge of his bed, with his fists underneath his chin and his elbows on his knees and stared at the wall. He assumed that whatever Tadashi needed his _kitsune-bi_ for would bring some kind of misfortune. On what scale, he had no idea... he couldn't imagine what a crow could do with a fox's power source. Sōjōbō had kept the fragment of the _kitsune-bi_ mostly out of spite, or because the old crow imagined (correctly) that Kurama would be weaker without it. Did Tadashi just want him dead? Or was there some underlying plan, some scheme?

Kurama sighed and propelled himself backwards to lay spread-eagle on his bed. From the living room he could hear the vague noises of conversation. Yuusuke had left after Kuwabara had taken Kurama to his room, so that left Shizuru, Yukina, Kuwabara, and Hiei. He could hear Kuwabara and Hiei faintly. They were talking about baseball, which had become the default topic for them whenever they were forced to be in the same room for too long a time. After the first few years of constant insults, it had gotten old even for them, so they found a new topic. Figured it would be sports, though _baseball_ seemed like a vanilla subject for Hiei, but the longer he thought about it, the more sense it made. Really, how many ways could a homeless demon find to entertain himself that didn't involve killing, stealing, or setting fire to things?

There was a knock at his door. Briefly, he thought of ignoring it. The knocker didn't give him a chance to, and the door swung open, revealing Shizuru holding a tray of food.

"You are going to eat, you are not going to argue with me, and I'm going to _stay_ here until every scrap is gone," she stated. She swept into the room and set the tray on the bedside table - it was laden with a bowl of miso, some sweet bread, and tea. Then she turned and put her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"Did I argue?" he asked, rolling over to sit up. She watched him closely, and then sat herself in the chair opposite his bed. He picked up the bowl of miso, made to take a bite, but paused, glancing up at Shizuru. "Are you going to stare at me the entire time I eat?"

"Yes," she said shortly, crossing her arms. Stubborn. Just like her brother, he supposed. He shrugged and began to shovel food into his mouth, doing very well at ignoring her until he was mostly finished. He set down his bowl, took a swig of tea, and gave her a look that clearly indicated he was neither amused by her attention not particularly grateful to her making sure he got all his food down. She stared back, daring him to make a comment. They continue the stare down for a few moments until Shizuru leaned forward, her eyes going from challenging to serious.

"I'm going to level with you here, fox-man," she said, folding her hands over her knees. "I don't know you all that well. I reckon that if it wasn't for Urameshi and his violent love affair with speeding cars we could have gone our whole lives without meeting each other." Kurama stifled a small laugh at that, and Shizuru flashed a smile before continuing. "My brother's shitting himself over how worried he is about you, you know. Well, him and Hiei, but Hiei isn't my responsibility, so I can't really speak for him."

"Kazuma isn't necessarily your responsibility, either," Kurama pointed out. He took the remainder of his sweetbread and started breaking it into tiny pieces.

"He's my brother. I worry."

"You're worried that whatever happened to me will cause unsavory backlash for him," he stated, tossing the bread pieces into the empty miso bowl.

"Yes."

"I don't plan on involving him in my issues here. I can try to dissuade him from involving himself but... he's stubborn." _Like you, Shizuru. _She didn't seem too pleased by that excuse.

"I'd hoped," she murmured, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from her pocket, "that all this 'Spirit Detective' craziness would be over now. Isn't that what you have your rulers for over there? To keep things like this from happening?" She groped in her other pockets for a lighter, remembered she'd forgotten it, and shoved the cigarettes away again.

"You know that's not the case." As much as anyone wished it was, Enki's power over a large population of S-Class demons was tenuous at best. The smartest of them had  
stayed out of Yuusuke's tournament, knowing that it was easier to sneak around behind the winner's back than to risk having to rule over a clutch of re-integrationists. There were still boundary wars, still pockets of malcontents, and a staggering number of very powerful, very dangerous demons quickly and secretly coming into power in both worlds. Reikai had no idea; they knew that Enki had the throne and barrier was gone. They could wipe their hands of responsibility beyond shuttling the dead to the afterlife. Now that they didn't have to orchestrate wars themselves, it made Reikai's job that much easier, and living as a demon or a human that much more dangerous.

A quiet took the room.

Kurama knew that Shizuru wouldn't leave him in peace until he gave her a satisfactory answer. His issue was that he didn't have any of those in stock right now. He looked at her, she at him, and finally, Shizuru stood, grabbed the tray, and nodded to him. "For their sake," she said, turning to the door, "try not to get into too much trouble."

He couldn't promise anything, so he stayed silent as she left him alone. He waited for a while, listening to the soft conversations from the front room, and turned back to his thoughts, planning.

* * *

The wind.

Oh god, he had forgotten the feel of the wind.

Kuronue soared, high above a city he did not know - higher than human eyes could clearly see or air vehicles could fly, breathing in light and air and cold for the first time in decades. His heart - or what passed for a heart for demons - thrummed with joy, his blood sang; his wings ached from disuse. But he was _flying._ From this high, he could see lightning sparking across the spine of the storm creeping its way closer to the city. It was fierce; welcoming. Almost familiar even, fueled with energy that he didn't _know,_ but he recognized, even distantly.

He forgot his brother and went to it, arcing with the lightning between the clouds, crying out with joy and deep, horrible sorrow for the years he had spent in that horrid dark hole, feeling the storm spin itself into a darker fury. The storm cradled him, and filled him with power he had not tasted in decades. He felt the first misting of power sink into his skin, and the thrum of life - real life, not that hollow form of "living" he had felt for so long - in his demon's heart.

He was far from home, and far, he knew, from any allies he had ever known, and his brother would be out for blood once it was discovered that he had escaped. _With help,_ the charitable part of him remembered, though it had been ground down to almost nothing. _That fire demon and the human, they helped. And, that human..._  
The human knew where Youko hid, or could at least point him in the right direction. So, perhaps he wasn't starting quite as alone as he thought. He would keep the human in mind. But for now... it was time to find his brother.

He folded his wings close to his body and dove, down through the heart of the storm. He dodged lightning and pockets of searing heat, emerging from the bottom of the clouds, and slowly opened his wings again, leveling himself out. He was higher still than any bird could fly, high enough to see how far the city sprawled beneath him. Is this what had become of Edo? He knew the mountains, and saw where the ocean lay, but where had all the forests gone? In only a few years, so much had been cleared away by human hands, destroyed and never to be regained. Had Kyoto fared the same? And what about further south? A glance in either direction gave him a line of city, the soft green of captured trees breaking the monotony of glass and cement in short bursts of color.

Utterly heartbreaking. But then, the human world was no longer his concern. Makai was his home, like every other demon. It had just been easier for Tadashi to imprison him here. A hot gust of wind pushed him up towards the clouds again, and he soared with it for a time. Then he dove again, down towards the tall buildings. He went quickly, sure as anything that there was at least _one_ human down there that would look up at just the right time to catch a glimpse of him. He landed atop one of the buildings, bare feet hitting unfamiliar concrete. It was a strange, if welcome, change from the cold metal floors of his former prison.

"What now?" he murmured, casting his gaze down to the streets. There were more humans here than he'd ever seen. They _thronged_ here, a great multitude of them. There was no chance of slipping through the city unseen; there were far too many eyes. Even after the boost the growing storm had given him, he was still too weak to transform himself into a crow or dog. Without the ability to move among them, he was that much more at a disadvantage, and struck even attempting to find Tadashi in this massive mess. His only option for right now was to ask for help.

Thankfully, as well as humans, the city had a gigantic population of crows. He called to one, perched on a roof not too far from the one he now inhabited, and it came eagerly to his hand. He stroked its glossy feathers and whispered to it, asking first its allegiance (it would not do to ask help of one of his brother's crows) and then asking its help. He instructed it to go back to its murder and gather them all here, then sent it on its noisy way, watching it glide expertly through webs of power lines and over the heads of oblivious humans.

He watched the city as he waited. The humans held little devices with them wherever they went, talking into them, reading them, pressing the buttons. In every storefront and on every street there were motion picture displays. He remembered the one time he'd managed to convince Youko to sneak with him into the human world before he'd been imprisoned - they'd gone to a motion picture theater, and even then they had been fascinating. Now they were _everywhere._ Along those were countless massive-sized photographs, and illustrations that looked nothing like the artwork he remembered from those decades ago. Even the automobiles had advanced to the point where they resembled the transportation devices some richer demons used in Makai.

The crow returned finally, followed by its murder. They totaled fifty in number, all crowding in to get a look at their "tall brother." He introduced himself to each of them, learning their names, their calls, and their eyes. "Find other tall brothers," he told them. "Find one who looks like me, but whose eyes are wrapped in ice. Find him and tell me where he is." Then he lifted his arms and they sprang into flight as one, a great black bird breaking into millions of parts and scattering into the wind.

Kuronue watched them until even his eyes couldn't distinguish their color from the sky. Now, to wait. There was little else he could do.

* * *

Hiei lifted the hem of his headband for a moment, focusing the Jagan on the door of Kurama's room. The fox had stopped pacing, laid on his bed, and, if his energy was any indication, was dead asleep. Hiei doubted anything would wake him for a good while, so he closed the book he'd been reading and set it on the table beside the chair he'd commandeered. Kuwabara looked up from the couch, where he was listlessly flipping channels. Shizuru and Yukina had left to go get food - not without a few despairing comments about how all bachelors lived the same, no matter _who_ they were (Hiei guessed that they meant "without food," since Kurama's kitchen was terribly bare) - leaving Hiei and Kuwabara to sit out their uneasy truce.

"Hey, take a look at this," Kuwabara said. He'd stopped his channel-surfing on a local news station, where a wind-battered anchorman was shouting above a stiff wind.

_"...the storm seems to have taken a turn for the worst, and meteorologists are predicting typhoon conditions. Coastal_ _residents are advised to move inland or..." _Kuwabara hit the mute button, and gave Hiei a look.

"Think we can see it from here?" He asked, giving a pointed glance at Hiei's headband, and Hiei took the hint and lifted the hem again. The storm was close, though the wind hadn't reached them yet.

"From the balcony," he murmured, going to the sliding doors. The air was still when he opened them, but he could see the wind kicking up closer to the coast easily. Kuwabara came up behind him, leaning against the railing and letting out a low, impressed whistle.

"God damn, I thought last night was bad. There's youki on that wind, can you see it?"

"Yes." Hiei's eyes narrowed and he squinted at the clouds. The youki was... disturbingly familiar. He glanced back to Kurama's room a moment, then again to the storm. "It wasn't like that earlier." An uneasy moment of silence, and the wind finally began to creep over the building, still a soft breath of air.

"Seriously, do you feel that? It feels like-

"-You should call your sister, tell them to come back quickly." Hiei interrupted. He turned back into the apartment, settling his Jagan again on Kurama's door. Still asleep, and likely to stay so. He turned again to the balcony. Kuwabara stood in the doorway, cell phone to his ear, and an uneasy look passed over his face.

"Voice mail," he muttered, clicking the phone shut. "They should be back soon, though. Shizu's good at staying safe when there's trouble." A crack of thunder punctuated him and they both jumped. Kuwabara turned to look out at the storm again, and Hiei followed, lingering in the doorway. He hesitated for a second and took off his headband, making the eye search for Yukina and Shizuru's energy signatures. He found them after a panicked moment of nothing but low-level youki and uninteresting humans, packed in a line at a grocery store not too far away. A bolt of lightning cut across the sky followed by a boom loud enough to rattle the windows. Hiei glanced again to Kurama's room - not an inch had the fox stirred - and turned back in to the apartment to grab his cloak.

"It's too close for my liking, I'm going to walk back with them," he informed Kuwabara. "Stay here, open Kurama's door if you have to, but keep an eye on him."

Kuwabara looked for a moment like he wanted to protest, but shrugged his shoulders, and made a gesture to the door. "If you say so," he grumbled. He figured it was best not to argue with Hiei these days, because that usually ended in Hiei disappearing, and Yukina inexplicably becoming a touch depressed. Hiei nodded once and vanished, seeming to go with a third crack of lightning that made Kuwabara's skin crawl. Alone in the apartment (but for Kurama, who was presumably still dead to the world, and the cat, who was hiding under the couch) he looked around suspiciously, as if he half-expected an attack to come at any moment.

Satisfied for now that the place was safe, he crept down the short hallway to Kurama's bedroom and propped open the door. He could hear soft breathing over the quickly building wind, and was assured that, at least, all was well for now.

* * *

"I thought we were going to wait," Tadashi murmured, just loud enough to be picked up by the speakerphone on the table next to him. His faceless partner's voice filtered through the machine, a soft laugh.

_"Kuronue making himself known so quickly and so recklessly was unexpected. That storm is very powerful, and therefore he will be too. I'm sure you felt how much of it he took?"_

Tadashi grimaced. Youko's _kitsune-bi _was still cradled in his hands, radiating a soft, pulsing light. It flared brightly whenever lightning struck, making his eyes and hands burn. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to put it down. Just having his hands on _so much power..._

_"Tadashi, I appreciate your focus,"_ his partner reminded him, voice sweet and gentle as always. Tadashi snapped to attention. How it could tell his mind was straying, without being in the room made his skin crawl.

"I am focused," he muttered, earning another soft chuckle. His irritation and unease faded. Yes, his shadowy partner was frightening, but also so... what was it? Comforting? Yes, perhaps that. "Guide me."

_"Bring the storm further inland, south by just a few degrees. That should wake them up a little."_

"You _know _where Kuronue and Youko are?" Even with all his resources, Tadashi had never been able to accurately pinpoint Youko's location just his alias and that he lived _somewhere_ in Roppongi. Finding the fox's phone number had been a gift, and his informant had been rewarded more than handsomely.

_"I know where Kuronue is. I suspect Kurama is not too far away. Your brother means to kill you, you know. He searches for you now."_ The voice had grown soft; sad. _"I do wish it did not have to be this way. Perhaps, if we could make him see reason..."_

"Please," Tadashi murmured, focusing on the _kitsune-bi_ again. "Please, I need to concentrate." He did not want to think of killing Kuronue. If only Kuro had known how much _good _he had done, even in that torturous imprisonment... it had been necessary. Without that, they never would have gotten so far. But, Kuronue hated him, and would doubtlessly hinder the project rather than help it. It could not be avoided. Tadashi pushed that sad thought away and pulled the storm in, making the currents of wind spin themselves harder, making up for the energy lost from Kuronue's interference. The _kitsune-bi_ amplified his youki, giving him a straight channel to the elements, the way he would have gone if he had been a Storm Lord, as he should have been. Another mark against Youko... it was his fault Tadashi's inheritance had been lost. As if knowing his thoughts strayed to its master, the _kitsune-bi_ shuddered in his hands, glowing white-hot. It would've burned through human flesh like a tiny sun.

The storm growled. Tadashi paused, and wiped a tear of pain away.

* * *

"Please, just hear me out!" Kuronue shouted. He was dangling once again by his legs, his arms and wings trussed up so as to be useless. Youko stood in front of him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed to slits. He hadn't said a word since Kuronue had... well, spilled his metaphorical guts about an hour earlier. Just stood and stared with a disappointed look on his face. The look itself was almost painful to Kuronue. It wasn't just disappointment in his eyes... but also betrayal. Kuronue had tried to explain himself, but his voice had died in his throat before he could get farther than the first syllable.

"Y-Youko, come on, let me down. You didn't let me finish what I was going to sa-"

"I'll give you from the time I let you down to the time the sun touches the peak at Fushimi Inari. If you aren't gone by then, I will kill you." The vines holding Kuronue loosened instantly, and he landed on his face on the hard floor of the veranda. Youko turned his back and disappeared into the house, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Shit," Kuronue sighed, picking himself up. "Youko! Come on, let me explain what I-" he was cut off again, this time almost literally, by a barrage of thorns crossing itself over Youko's door. Damn.

It was spring, one of those soft mornings after a long winter that Kuronue always looked forward to. In the valley, the cherry trees were days away from blooming, but up in the mountain they were already beginning to shed their blossoms. Months of training had led up to this day, when Youko planned to bring him on their first cooperative heist. It would have been simple, crossing over into Makai and robbing a specific noble's treasury of a particular bit of precious treasure.

They'd planned and trained for it down to the last detail, figuring out countless contingency plans. Youko was nothing if not very careful. Kuronue had felt confident, assured not only by Youko's apparent trust in him, but that Youko had actually gone so far as to _praise_ him during their last training session. Not that he had let his confidence show, or said anything but a mumbled thank you to Youko for it. It had taken him a while, but he'd learned, painfully, not to let Youko think he was about anything but strict business.

He _wanted_ Youko to trust him, so he had told the truth. Youko had not taken it well at all.

Kuronue theorized that Youko suspected he was a member of Sōjōbō's house. The son of some servant or another, probably a home assassin. Kuronue had let him believe this as it was the best explanation as to why he'd been spying on the fox and his father that first night months ago, and was content in keeping his heritage a relative secret, at first. For one thing, there was no reason to tell Youko and cause even _more_ unrest between them than already existed. For another, Kuronue's wildly active (and not altogether inaccurate) imagination had supplied a number of creative and horrifying punishments that would await him if Youko _knew_ that he was Sōjōbō's direct relative.

But then again... That trust thing. It irked him. He knew he wasn't lying, not directly, but he wasn't being honest with Youko. Something about that, more than anything else, got under his skin and wouldn't leave him alone. So he woke up early that morning (the first that they would not be training until the heist was over) and waited for Youko on the veranda, watching the sunrise. When the fox had emerged from his room, still bleary-eyed from sleep, Kuronue had thought up a brilliant speech that would convince Youko to not kill him and hopefully let him stay on as an apprentice. Or at the very least crawl away without too much damage.

He opened his mouth to say good morning, but Youko beat him to it, still under the fading spell of sleep, and smiled at him. "Are you ready for later?"

It wasn't so much the question that stopped Youko in his tracks as the fact that Youko was _smiling._ Not that cat-like crafty smile he got when he was going to do something particularly nasty, or even that doped-up confused smile he'd had back when they first officially met. No, this was one of those voluntary, 'I'm smiling because it's a good day' type of smiles. Maybe even an 'I'm smiling because I'm glad to see you' smile, though that was probably asking a little too much. Kuronue's answer of "As ready as I can be" turned into

"I'm Sōjōbō's son..._ Fuck!"_He clapped his hands over his mouth, appalled that he'd said anything. Youko woke up instantly, his smile vanishing into confusion. Then anger. No, not anger. _Fury._

_"What?"_ Youko's eyes narrowed with that word, as if his whole face was emphasizing it. He'd been running a hand through his hair, probably just to push it out of his eyes. Oh, the thousand deadly things Kuronue imagined Youko was reaching for now.

"I'm... I'm... I'm... Sōjōbō's son?" Kuronue held up his arms over his face. "I'm sorry! I wanted to not fuck up telling you this, I'm his son but I GNRF-" and he was upside down, swinging from side to side. Youko had kept him like that for an hour, fury turning into anger, anger into... disappointment. Kuronue had a feeling that he'd rather be dead than see that look on Youko's face again. Now, barred by thorns and who knew what else, he glanced over to Fushimi Inari, far in the distance. Youko was giving him almost the whole day to leave. At least he was being generous.

Kuronue shuffled his feet. Aside from some spare clothes, he kept nothing with him. Youko had his piece of the gem, and technically their agreement had been fulfilled. There was nothing to do now really but... leave.

"Youko?" He called out again, stepping as close to the door as he dared. From within, he heard nothing. If he hadn't known Youko was in there already, he would've sworn the house was empty for the silence. "I'm sorry," he finished, hoping Youko had heard. Then he turned, opened his wings, and flew home.

* * *

"Thank _all_ the Gods!" Akira embraced him again, and Tadashi stood a little farther away, a relieved smile on his face. Kuronue was thanking the Gods too... he wouldn't have known what to do with himself if he'd met his parents first. It had been dumb luck that his brothers were out in the main courtyard together. They had been shocked when he landed between them in the middle of a spar, but had instantly recovered, Akira reaching him first and nearly smothering him with hugs. "Where have you _been?_"

Kuronue looked between them. He didn't dare tell them the truth (and wasn't that a turnaround, when you wanted to be more honest with a crook than your own family?) though a mean part of him wanted to. Maybe even spin the tale to make himself a hero, that he'd been secretly spying on Youko for them all along. The very thought of that made him feel sick.

"That gem that Youko Kurama stole from father... I was looking for it. I... managed to sneak around Youko's territory some, but had to stay hidden. It wasn't there, though, so I had to see if he had any other strongholds here or in Makai." A plausible lie and he didn't look like a coward or a traitor for it. Akira laughed.

"_That_ old thing! Oh, four months searching for it, father will be pleased, even if you didn't find it. Your timing couldn't be better, though, especially considering you know some of Youko's territory now!" He clapped Kuronue on the back, grinning between him and Tadashi. Kuronue felt an uneasy sort of dread.

"Why's that?" He asked, looking more to Tadashi than overexcited Akira. Tadashi's smile widened.

"We are going to march against Youko. Tonight."

"_What?!"_ Kuronue didn't mean to sound as shocked and appalled as he was. Tadashi lifted an eyebrow, but Akira didn't notice, hugging Kuronue around the shoulders, still grinning.

"You heard him, little brother! Tonight, we go to war!"

* * *

1/6/2009

Happy New Year! Thank you HColleen and Darkangel_Wings for all your help!  
Comments and critiques are, as usual, most welcome.


	9. Smoke

Nine

"Smoke"

* * *

Shizuru paused under an awning, reaching in her pocket for a cigarette. She put it in her mouth, inhaling smoke that wasn't coming through the filter. She hadn't had time to buy a lighter, but she wanted it there anyway. She could taste the tobacco on the paper, and smell it just a little bit, which was almost as good as lighting up and taking the first drag. She hefted her bags again and nodded to Yukina, who had politely paused just a few paces in front of her. "You feel that?" She asked, glancing up to the sky which looked - from here - deceptively clear and blue. Yukina nodded yes, matching pace with Shizuru again.

"It's unsettling," Yukina seemed to shiver as she spoke. Odd, Yukina shivering, as if she could feel cold. "I would swear it feels just like-"

"-Hey." Both women stopped short. Hiei had appeared (literally) in front of them, and held out his hands to take a bag from each. "Sky's getting nasty."

"What is this," Shizuru narrowed her eyes at him, "an escort? We're five blocks away, Hiei. We don't need our hands he-" a crack of thunder, and Yukina jumped, dropping one of the bags and spilling a jug of milk all over the sidewalk. Hiei cursed and grabbed it up, glaring up at the sky.

"We have to go," he growled, helping Yukina with the rest of her bags. He glared at Shizuru. "Emphasis on _have to._" The first few drops of rain splattered on the sidewalk, diluting the spilled milk into the gutter. Shizuru shrugged and handed over one of her bags.

"What's the status, then?" Yukina asked, quickening her pace to follow closely behind Hiei. "This wind, it feels like..."

"I know what it feels like," Hiei murmured. "There is going to be a storm soon, and we need to get to shelter quick." He stopped at a crosswalk, glaring hot death at the street sign. From this part of the street the wind was nothing more than completely normal, a little rustle.

Then someone turned on a strobe light. A hundred bright flashes one after the other, then a crack, like a thousand panes of glass breaking all at once. Behind them someone screamed, and Hiei realized that a thousand panes of glass _had_ just broken, and were spilling their shards down onto the street with the rain. He dropped his bags, looking up and jumping back, Yukina in one arm, Shizuru in the other, staring with a kind of fascinated horror at an office building that had just decided to bend over and take a closer look at the street. He smelled fire and ozone; saw - in that split second of _noticing_ that you can rewind and review a thousand times many hours later - where the building had been so scorched by lightning that it was folding in on itself. And he saw, or rather was sure he imagined, a gigantic bird rise up from the roof of the building and speed off into the distance. Hiei noticed all these things, but he did not register them. All he registered now was 'threat,' 'danger,' and 'move.' Preferably with 'protect' stuck on there somewhere.

Shizuru was not screaming; this was something that registered. She was yelling, something that sounded like _"run away you stupid assholes!"_ or close enough to be relevant. Yukina had clapped her hands over her ears and was trying hard to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible, letting Hiei carry her like a rag doll. _Good girls,_ he thought, speeding away from the danger. _Very good. _Humans in the street were panicking, some running towards the falling building - he heard a smash, different from before, and knew that the first building had hit the one across from it - some running away. He dodged who he could, jumped over who he couldn't, and kept going. The strobe lights came again, and he was suddenly drenched. Rain? He hazarded a glance upwards. Water reservoir from one of the buildings, one he was past now, also bowing down to the street. The sky here was still clear. He didn't dare look behind him to see what it was like back there - he could feel the shadow of the clouds heavy on the back of his neck.

_"UNDERGROUND!"_ Shizuru yelled; it took him a second to notice it was directed at _him_ and not at someone on the street.

_"WHAT?!"_ He shouted back, dodging a group of confused high-school kids. Some of them had their cell phones out, blithely taking pictures of the wreckage. He wondered if they even noticed him, running off with a woman under each arm. It must look absurd.

_WE HAVE TO GET UNDERGROUND!"_ Shizuru answered him. She pointed and he followed the line of her finger instinctively, towards a set of stairs that looked like they were going down into the street. The humans that had enough of their wits about them to get off the street were heading to the same place. Fortunately, there weren't that many of them. He didn't slow down, taking the stairs five at a time, jumping over the turnstiles (careful, very careful, not to let either Yukina or Shizuru get caught or hit by anything) and stopped, not nearly out of breath but breathing heavily anyway. Humans were still piling down the stairs, screaming, turning, pointing... and smoke began to follow them. Or he thought it was smoke. It tasted like dirt, probably a mixture of both, and then the lights went out completely.

* * *

Kuronue had resigned himself to waiting. A few crows had returned with little intelligence - there were other Tengu in the city (as well as plenty of other demons, surprisingly high-level ones) most of them living mundane, human lives. None of his new flock had any information on Tadashi yet, but they'd only covered a small part of the city. He'd need a much bigger flock, he soon realized, but that would be impossible - or at least foolish - until he could find a secure base of operations and a large place to _keep_ all of them, not to mention the birds themselves. He suspected that Tadashi already had a flock of his own, surely several times larger than his own, keeping eyes on his territory.

Tadashi probably knew where he was right now, or could make an educated guess. He'd been an idiot to leave that human's home.

That human... Kuronue could see the building the human lived in from here. He had flown circuit around a large bit of the city, yes, but that circuit ended not far at all from where he had woken up - less than half a mile. He peered at the building as he waited and the hours crawled by. Once, he saw a woman on the balcony he was sure he'd flown from, but she vanished soon after. Since then, nothing. He hadn't bothered to count the hours as they passed, but the sun would be very near the horizon by now, if he could see it beyond the dark cover of the clouds.

The storm took his attention now. The clouds had gone from bluish-grey earlier in the morning to near black now. Lamps on the street and in the buildings had already been lit, even though it was a summer day and the night should still be far from human was an uncanny familiarity to the storm - comforting, but also in some way repulsive for reasons he couldn't understand. He supposed his mind was still slow from his imprisionment, still quiet. It must have been, if his only plan now was to linger on rooftops. Lightning flashed, followed by an unnaturally loud crack of lightning, and his chain of thought was broken. He glanced again at the building he'd come from, and could see the demon from earlier, as well as another human, standing on the balcony, staring out at the storm. The demon's face turned towards him and he ducked around the housing of the exit stairs, keeping out of sight. He waited a moment before going to the edge of the roof again, looking out at the storm. That thunder was too loud to be natural...

The little hairs all over his body suddenly prickled and stood on end, and he felt like he was being lifted by the spine, and the world went bright white. Smoke, fire, lightning... He gasped, and his balance failed, the roof beneath him suddenly buckling, slipping down and away and hitting his back, though he hadn't fallen.

_The building... what? No, what? What... FLY, you fool!_ He gathered his legs under him, bracing his hands on what had seconds ago been the floor and was now a wall, and pushed himself up and away, out into the sky as the smoke and fire decided that lightning was having too much fun and it was their turn to be very known. His back felt hot, a literal wave of heat pushing the backs of his wings and he tumbled in mid-air, arms flailing and wings flapping wildly to catch and ride that heat. Then, up, into the sky, surfing on the fire that was bursting from every pore of the building. The buildings next to it. The whole street. Smoke, lightning, screaming, burning _everything. _He cupped his wings and went up further, grabbing the air with his hands as if the motion itself would make him climb faster. He rose up quickly, the heat pushing him towards the clouds which had not too long ago been so inviting, and were now the _last_ place he wanted to be. The rain hit him, driving him down, and he closed his wings, allowing himself to fall, dropping back down towards the street, towards the building the strange human and the fire demon had taken him to, then up towards the balcony and, he hoped, safety.

* * *

It wasn't the thunder directly that woke Kurama, but Misa. The cat, terrified by the last crash, had jumped onto the bed (and him) and had seemed to grow about ten extra legs, all of them ending in sharp kitty claws that were trying very hard to hide _inside_ Kurama. The pain shocked him awake, and he fell out of the bed entirely, warring with self preservation (throw the cat off) and protective instinct (calm the cat down and make sure she isn't hurt) and settled for landing on his back, injured arm around Misa, looking around wildly for whatever the hell it was that had scared her so badly. It didn't take long for him to figure it out - a flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder that sounded like an explosion let him know _just_ what had put his cat in a foul mood.

He picked himself up from the floor, cradling Misa in his arms and trying to soothe her the best he could. Another flash, and he heard cursing over the next blast of thunder. Kuwabara.

"What the hell is happening out there?" He called, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and going out into the main room. Kuwabara was on the balcony, cursing loudly. "Kazuma! What's going on?"

"Oh, fuck, oh, Kurama, oh shit, _look_-" Kuwabara ran into the living room and grabbed Kurama's arm, making him drop the cat and dragging him out to the balcony, pointing and gesturing wildly. "Oh fuck, it's taking out whole _blocks." _Kurama went out with him, staring first at the storm - "_Jesus, it's like that shit storm in Poltergeist,_" Kuwabara was saying next to him, hands in his hair, staring in horror down at the chaos in the street. Kurama stared with him, shocked now harder than he had been before. So many things happening all at once... god, what had _happened_ down there...

"Kazuma," Kurama said, feeling like the air had been sucked right out of his lungs. "Where is everyone else?" Kuwabara stared at him, panicked.

"Sis and Yukina went to get food, Hiei went after them." He didn't point, but his eyes kept going to that particular block, to those buildings. One of them was a grocery store, a _Mycal._ A commercial advertising the store itself flashed through Kurama's head. His blood felt icy.

"When did he go?" Still, breathless. The clouds were roiling, the lightning striking at buildings with abandon, but none of it so destructive as the flashes that had taken out the Mycal and the office buildings next to it. Still, the air up here was deathly still. The storm was so close, a breath away from... there.

Thunder bellowed and the windows rattled. Distantly Kurama could hear Misa yowling pitifully inside. Rain and wind struck them like a slap, and Kurama thought for a horrifying moment that Kuwabara would go over the railing of the balcony and reached, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back. Kuwabara teetered backwards and slammed into him, pushing them both back into the apartment, spluttering and cursing and apologizing the entire time.

"Oh shit, Kurama, it feels like you," He gasped, slamming the balcony door closed. Kurama gaped at him.

"What do you mean, it 'feels like me'?" He asked, quite sure he already knew the answer. Kuwabara was spared from answering; a black mass of feathers and hair crashed through the balcony door, sent Kuwabara sprawling, and landed on the coffee table, snapping it in half. Kurama tried to go to it instantly, jumping to his feet and managing only to to trip over debris and narrowly avoid filleting himself on broken glass. "Kuronue," he gasped out, almost inaudible over another crack of thunder, then silenced completely as all the lights went out.

* * *

Kuronue followed close behind Akira, who was still talking a mile a minute about their battle plans. Tadashi had excused himself to go make sure his older sons were ready for the march. It would only be a few hours before they left, Akira told him, they'd planned it to arrive at the edge of Youko's territory at dawn with a force in the thousands.

"Father's called in a lot of favors with this one, and Youko isn't terribly known for making more allies than enemies, so we have a distinct edge this time." Akira was obviously excited. He and Kuronue were too young to have been in any _interesting_ battles, mainly the odd border skirmish or similar easy march. They 'built character,' Sōjōbō had told them when they complained (for various reasons.) Kuronue was in a similar mindframe as Akira; the little battles they'd taken part in were less than thrilling. If they'd settled in Makai, they'd both probably be close to B-class demons. As it happened, Sōjōbō had forbidden them from even _mentioning_ going to Makai. Kuronue had been waiting to go to war for years. Now, he felt like he was being bled out slowly by thousands of needles. Dread, cold and heavy, had settled itself in his stomach and was making it just a little harder to breathe.

"I don't see how it'll be any different from last time..." Gods above, he sounded like a coward. "I mean, when he can set the whole forest after us with a _thought..._"

"Aha! Yes, that's part of father's genius. You recall that lovely maiden you were supposed to be a suitor for last year? Well, she got married off to Tadashi's oldest instead. Turns out her father has a whole _platoon_ of fire demons at his beck and call. We'll burn Youko out first, and with all his weapons being destroyed faster than he can grow them, we'll be able to overpower him. Maybe even take him in alive... he has something or other that father _really_ wants to get his hands on."

_Fire? How strong is he against fire? _Kuronue didn't recall any back doors deeper in Youko's home (he'd explored as much of it as he could when Youko had been doped to the gills on painkillers) for all that it was built right into the side of the mountain. Maybe there was something he missed, some way he could escape...

"We're going to have to get you re-fitted for armor, brother," Akira sighed, stopping in front of the armory doors and giving him a once-over. "You look a lot thinner."

"Tracking through the wilderness isn't exactly a sedentiary lifestyle," Kuronue mumbled back. Akira seemed to accept that explanation and grinned brightly at him.

"Damn, but I was worried about you," Akira sighed, opening the doors to the armory. "There were a lot of rumors flying around... I'm not even going to go into them, they were absurd." He closed the door behind them, and barred it. His voice suddenly had a strange, airy quality to it. "Like, you working with Youko."

Kuronue tensed. _Shit._ How? Akira had found out somehow; he was terrible at keeping someone's secret when that someone was in the same room. Looking at him now, Kuronue could see it all over his face. He _knew._ Kuronue said nothing. He couldn't defend himself, of course, and Akira wouldn't believe him if he tried.

"You know, you aren't the only one who likes to get out once in a while. Tadashi sticks pretty close to father, but... you know how it is. He's the first born. We have more freedom." Akira folded his arms over his chest. His lips were pressed into a straight line, and his eyes were darting around the room, landing everywhere but Kuronue's face. "Father knows."

"_WHAT?"_ Kuronue actually _jumped_ that time. He had been shocked earlier, yes, but this rattled him down to his very _bones._ "Wha- but, if he knew..."

"You would've been taken in the assault with Youko. I know. You're officially a traitor."

The silence between them was like lead weight. Kuronue couldn't bring himself to say anything to Akira, as shocked as he was. Akira was still making a great effort to not look at him. It took him a long stretch of moments before he could force words. "If you knew that I was a traitor-"

"Tadashi knows too." Akira interrupted, gaze falling to the floor.

Kuronue closed his eyes. His father would know where he was, then, probably coming with armed guard. He had never in his life, not even after the worst of his childhood mistakes, felt like more of a fuck-up than now. He could run, surely, but of course they would've planned for that. He'd be stuck full of charmed arrows before he could get three wingbeats out the door.

"I'm good at spying, Kuro," Akira said, hands dropping to his sides. "And Tadashi is good at keeping people stalled with things while something important happens elsewhere. Father's in his stateroom on the other side of the manse, and Tadashi has father's personal samurai occupied with a disciplinary display in the second courtyard. If you run and fly fast enough, you can make it back to Youko's territory before dawn. If you're _very_ fast..." he trailed off. Kuronue could swear he saw tears in his brother's eyes. "I won't give you anything, because I can't guarantee something I give you won't be tracked. But I can give you advice." He stood up a little straighter suddenly, and looked Kuronue in the eyes.

"Go to Makai. Take what you can carry or can't afford to leave behind and bury the rest. They don't know that Youko's treasury is _in_ the mountain, and I won't tell you how _I_ know. Father won't follow you there; he's too afraid of the stronger Tengu to want to try and go after you." He opened the latch to the door, glancing out before stepping aside. Kuronue could see the sunset through the lattice doors on the other side of the hall. "You know what the battle strategy is. And I'm sure he knows how to get to Makai." Kuronue stepped forward, unsure of what to do or say.

"Akira..."

"Go on. I'm useless at goodbyes, and I'm sure we'll see each other again." With that, Akira turned his back on him, eyes gleaming in the red sunset, and Kuronue fled from his home for the last time.

* * *

Kuwabara had made a soggy, half-hearted attempt at cleaning up the glass and getting the balcony doors blocked off to ward out the rain. There were second doors like shutters that went over them, but the frame of one had been dented by Kuronue, so didn't close all the way. Even so, it was better than nothing, and there was only a little puddle of rain coming through, which Kuwabara would mop up every few minutes in a desperate bid to keep busy. Kurama evidently noticed that it would be useless to tell him not to, and it kept him from wandering around aimlessly and worrying about Yukina and his sister.

Kurama was on the couch, and Kuronue - again comatose and completely passed out - was laying with his head on Kurama's lap, sprawled over two thirds of the couch with his legs dangling over the edge. His wings had been folded out of the way in the most comfortable way possible and were more or less intact, as far as could be told. Kuwabara and Kurama together had made some effort to patch up the bits of him that had been sliced by broken glass, but without more than a flashlight with a fading battery and a few dying candles there hadn't been much they could do.

Very little time had actually passed for all that; less than an hour. The electricity had gone out - in this building and as far as either Kurama or Kuwabara could see - save for the emergency lights in the bathroom, kitchen, and the hallways of the apartment building. In the very far distance there was a glimmer of lights, indicating that while the blackout was widespread, it was by no means complete. The only sources of light were from cars on the streets, emergency lights in the buildings, and the fires that had sprung up in the wake of the storm. Kuwabara, standing at the windows, could see little fires all along his line of sight, grimly aware that not all of them were due to the lightning. There were emergency sirens in the distance; they'd began to sound as soon as the lightning had stopped. Not long after, the sun had gone down completely. The sirens were still going now, with the closer cacophony of police and emergency vehicle sirens all but drowning out their distant drone.

The cell phones, along with anything not battery-powered, were completely down. Kuwabara had tried his phone and Kurama's, getting nothing but an automated message of a calm-voiced woman telling him that the cellular network was being compromised by emergency response, and that if he would please wait, service would be returned to normal promptly. Promptly didn't mean anything to Kuwabara unless prompt equalled immediate and that _certainly_ wasn't the case right now. Yukina and Shizuru were out there, somewhere. For all he knew they had still been in Mycal when the lightning had struck it. When the cell phones failed, he had tried stretching out his awareness, and succeeded in only touching the echoes of confused and terrified spirits (thankfully none of them he recognized, yet) and a massive uprising of terror from every direction. Even after years of training and honing the ability, it was impossible to 'see' through the fog of panic that had settled with the storm clouds over the dark part of the city.

Kuwabara sighed heavily and tore himself away from the windows. He sat in the one chair that hadn't been soaked or sliced, resting his feet on a broken half of Kurama's coffee table. Kurama watched him, eyes reflecting the weak candlelight around them. The silence of the place was unsettling along with the darkness. The weak fluorescent glow from over the stove didn't quite ease the darkness - instead making it more obvious. The candles they'd managed to scavenge from around the apartment were even weaker, fluttering and threatening to extinguish at every breath of air from the broken doors. Kuwabara couldn't wait for sunrise, and wouldn't admit out out that the dark was more than just a little spooky. The silence, though, that could be taken care of.

"Think Botan's busy?" He asked, not expecting much of an answer.

"I hope she isn't," Kurama murmured. "Because if she is it means that she'd be ferrying someone we know. That's always how things like this work." Kurama's eyes closed a moment, and then half-opened again. "This has all gone very badly very quickly."

Kuwabara nodded slowly. He glanced then to Kuronue, who looked deceptively peaceful. The demon was still asleep, at least. He'd hit the glass awfully hard, and the table was one of those sturdy numbers that came with the apartment; meant to last. Poor guy... he may have treated Kurama like an asshole earlier, but he'd obviously been through a load of shit Kuwabara couldn't even _imagine._ "Kurama-" he started, but Kurama looked up sharply and held up a hand.

"Shuuichi. He can't know who I am, Kazuma. He means to kill Youko Kurama, and..." he trailed off again, his voice fading into the dull drone of the emergency sirens.

Kuwabara noticed Kurama was running his fingers absently through Kuronue's hair. A lover's touch, and it would've been sweet if Kurama didn't look so... horribly pained. "Shuuichi," he amended, folding his hands in his lap. It felt odd, calling Kurama by his human name. He'd done it before, of course, at Kurama's mother's wedding, and around school and work, but in private, among friends? There was a strangeness to it, like he was talking to a ghost. "Is..." he sighed heavily. That had gotten him off track. "God damn it, I forgot what I was going to say." Kurama chuckled weakly. As if in response, Kuronue groaned and put a hand to his head. Kurama instantly took his away, looking down at Kuronue with a look of mingled relief and fear.

"Oh, when did glass get so _hard_..." Kuronue moaned, covering his face with both hands now.

"I think it was the table that did you in," Kurama supplied, his voice sounding strained. Kuwabara snorted and barely suppressed a laugh.

Kuronue took his hands away from his face and looked around. "Good thing I got the right window," he murmured. Then he noticed the damage and cursed. "Seems the day isn't being very kind to either of us," he said to Kurama, offering a smile that could have been apologetic. Kurama sort-of smiled back, and Kuwabara kept himself in his chair, repressing the urge to jump up and _shake_ Kuronue, maybe slap him a few times for all the trouble he'd put everyone through. Maybe beat the Tengu back into a coma. But then Kurama would probably kill him (regardless of power loss) and that wouldn't make things any easier for anyone. But the urge was there, and he entertained himself with a little mental fantasy of doing just that for a few minutes.

Kuronue pushed himself up, shoving long hanks of hair out of his face and over his shoulders. Kuwabara could see that, at some point, Kuronue had made an attempt to bind it up and out of the way, but whatever he had used had come undone in all the excitement, and the hair was now trailing on the floor like the train of a dress. Kuronue surveyed the damage, grimacing either in pain, embarrassment, or both. Most likely both. "I am... very sorry for this," he said to Kurama, who waved the apology away.

"The damage is fixable." Kurama made no overture to say anything else, and an awkward silence overtook them. They were all quiet, forming a lopsided triangle in the living room, staring at one another as if expecting something to happen. When nothing did, Kuwabara decided it was time, perhaps, to break the ice a little bit.

"D'you have a radio, Shuuichi?" He asked, almost laughing when the sound of his voice made both demons jump. He relized, belatedly, that Kuronue wouldn't have known Kurama's name. He realized also that they had both forgotten - at least for a moment - that he was in the room. Kurama looked at him blankly for a moment, and then it dawned on him.

"Yes, for emergencies. I'll go find it." Kurama stood, glanced at Kuronue, and then took the route that gave him the widest berth from the tall demon back into his room, grabbing one of the candles on the way. Kuronue watched him go and Kuwabara watched Kuronue.

"I don't think," Kuwabara said, after he was sure Kurama couldn't hear either of them, "that you made a very good first impression." He expected a glare, maybe even an attack from Kuronue at that bold a statement, but all he got in return was a soft, almost sad kind of sigh, and Kuronue shaking his head.

"No," the demon answered, eyes still on the hall Kurama had disappeared into, "I don't think I did."

* * *

Hiei heard his name in the darkness, and realized Shizuru had been talking to him for a full minute before the immediate intensity of _threat_ had faded away and that animal part of his mind had gone somewhere else.

"What?" He sounded to his own ears more startled than he should have. The murmur of human voices closest to him stopped a moment, and he could see the ghostly faces of the humans who had also taken refuge here turn towards him, though they could not see him in the dark. He sneered at them, receiving blank, unseeing stares. He was just another shadow to them. Softer, this time, "What, Shizuru?"

"I need a light."

"_What?_"

"You have a lighter. I need it."

_Oh, haha,_ he thought irritably, but conceded. Covertly, he flicked his fingers at her and the end of her cigarette flared to life. A few voices grumbled, but silenced after a moment.

The underground was silent as a grave. Every so often there would be a sneeze or a cough, the odd child crying, but otherwise it was still, with only the stirring of air and the shuffle of feet to be heard. Outside there was the occasional rumble of thunder, the sound of yelling or screaming, and the whine of sirens. The light that had filtered through the dirt and smoke had faded half an hour's time ago, bringing with it an eeriness he wasn't used to at all. The silence of the place, the blank bovine stares of the humans surrounding him, creeped him out more than anything else. Yukina, to his right, leaned over so she could whisper to him.

"When do you think we can get out of here?" She asked. He could see that she was starting to look uneasy, the veneer of compassionate calm was starting to crack. He shrugged.

"In a few minutes... the rain's starting to die down," he whispered back. He glanced around again, and the humans were still standing, staring around blankly. Waiting, it seemed, for someone else to come down and take controll of the situation. Even the security officers he had spotted had done little but tend to the few panicked or injured humans in the area, quickly quieting them down. They could be dying, but as long as they were quiet, it was no problem.

Another minute, two, and he decided he'd had enough of it, that the silence was just a little too much, maybe it was time to get going. A blinding light in his face and the roar of radio feedback in his ears prevented him from making that decision. Almost out of nowhere, the blue-red lights of police and emergency sirens sprang to life, like someone had hit the volume button on a television all the way up to the max. He flinched, cursing the reaction even as it happened, and stepped back, groping with either hand for his companions. Yukina's hand met him easily. It took work to get to Shizuru, who kept pulling away. He didn't look, but he was sure she was glaring - either at him or the police officers descending the stairs to the underground.

For some reason, perhaps it was because he was so used to the quiet, or maybe it was just the acoustics of the place, or that the officer was wearing a kind of helmet or face mask, he couldn't discern one word coming out of the officer from another. Sometimes something would seem important, like _orderly fashion_ and _silent_ and _emergency_, but otherwise it was all muffled, all jumbled. Like perhaps the human in front of him wasn't really speaking at all. The hand he'd managed to anchor on to Shizuru's wrist left her and went without his bidding to the hem of his headband. He came close -desperately close - to pulling it away before Shizuru grabbed _him_ and pulled his hand back into obedience. An icy chill entirely unrelated to the weather crawled up his spine, and he amazed himself by stepping aside so the officer - followed by a flock of others - could pass him by. The humans were already starting to form orderly lines, still silent. No questions, no protests.

The officer that had talked at Hiei faded into the crowd, followed by his team. All of them were dressed in emergency-response uniforms, black and armored like they expected trouble. They prowled through the lines of humans like wolves through trees, muttering to each other and themselves the same phrases. Now Hiei could hear them clearly. _This is an emergency. Please stay silent and line up in an orderly fashion._ Over and over. Yukina's grip tightened. He felt Shizuru blow a plume of acrid smoke over his head.

"We should get gone," Shizuru said under her breath. A spotlight beam swung to her face and she squinted, her features suddenly significantly less sane in the hard light. Another mumble from an officer. She sneered. The officer mumbled again, the same garbled phrase, and went back to stalking among the rows. Hiei nodded slowly and turned towards the stairs, where the flashing of police lights made a concert in the clouds of dust and smoke. Yukina went with him instantly, and he could see her glance back over her shoulder at the mute humans in the underground. Shizuru, admirably, did not turn back. Instead, she paced up, moving in front of them like a battering ram, parting the drifting smoke in front of them with her own breath, out into the dust-choked streets.

* * *

1/14/2009

Oh, this was a lot faster than the last chapter gap... looks like I'm starting to really gain steam!

Comments, criticisms, and catcalls are all quite appreciated, don't hesitate to speak out. Thank you again hColleen and Darkangel_wings for betaing.


	10. Alliance

Ten

* * *

The rain started just as Yuusuke began to make his way home. He'd called Kuwabara earlier, during his break, to make sure that everything was tight and that Kurama hadn't gone and died in his sleep or something similarly horrible. Kuwabara had reported nothing other than boredom, so Yuusuke was satisfied that he could go home and tell Keiko the situation.

He didn't really buy the whole 'Kurama being in shock' thing. Emotional stress, sure. Withdrawn and uncommunicative, definitely. Maybe even a level of depressed. But not shock. The title 'detective' didn't come from being completely stupid (though some might have argued that the title was just that, and Yuusuke's brain was really just a painting on the walls of his skull) but, really, you don't get made spirit detective and survive for such a long time by being a _total_ idiot. And the part of Yuusuke that was emphatically _not _ completely oblivious knew that Kurama was too smart and too with it to let that happen to himself, and so figured the best thing to do now would be to let Kurama sort things out in his head until he felt it was time to ask for help.

Hopefully that stupid martyr complex of Kurama's would sit it out for once and let help come before things got too serious.

He slogged on down the street, glaring up at the sky when the thunder became too loud for his tastes - which was often. He didn't like the sound of it; it felt too much like the storms in Makai. The storms where someone caught outside could be ripped in half by the wind or torn to bits by the rain. That, and it was _familiar._ Maybe it was because Kurama was on his mind so heavily now, but he could_ swear_ that the breath of the storm felt just like Kurama's youki.

Which, considering that said fox was not in possession of said energy, was probably not so far from the truth. Gathering what he could from Hiei's account of the situation and what he was actually feeling... well. 'Deep Shit' was probably the best phrase for it, but knowing their luck, that was an understatement. Yuusuke hunched his shoulders and plowed through the rain a little faster.

He got home just as the storm was working itself into a special fury. Keiko had gotten home before him, and he could see the top of her head over the back of their couch, facing the television. The picture on the set was grainy, fading in and out and going completely to static at particularly loud cracks of thunder. She'd muted the sound, but the scrolling text on the bottom displayed what he'd already guessed: A freak storm had settled over the Tokyo metro area, and wasn't moving. Circular, heavy winds kept it right over the city, and no meteorologist on any channel knew what the fuck was going on.

He took off his shoes and draped his jacket over the back of the couch before sitting next to Keiko. She was unnervingly quiet. After a moment she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder and wrap her arm around his waist.

"It's bad out there," she said. "I tried calling Yukina and Shizuru, the phones are out. I couldn't even reach Mom and Dad."

"Yeah…" there wasn't much he could say to that. He wasn't good at the comfort thing, but Keiko seemed to understand. She was great like that. They watched the news broadcast in silence for a while. Keiko sighed and then switched off the set, tossing the remote to the floor.

"Tell me what's going on with Kurama," she said shifting so they could lie together more comfortably. "He's okay, right? You were so vague when you called."

Yuusuke shrugged. "He's… well, he's okay for now, but something nasty's lurking. You remember that deal we had with Yakumo?"

She made a face. Of course she would remember; being knocked down the temple stairs may have given her a particularly bad concussion, but it hadn't screwed with her memory any. Yuusuke bit back a smile at her expression and went on. "Well, I didn't tell you much about it, but one of the goons we had to take out pretended to be one of Kurama's old partners… someone he thought had died a while ago. Turns out, the guy – the original guy, not the imposter wasn't so dead as we thought, and showed up late yesterday. Well, more like Kurama kind of tripped over him. The guy – Kuronue, his name is – his brother's been keeping him in solitary confinement for the past couple of decades for god knows what, and when Kurama found him he - the brother, not Kuronue - did something to take all of Kurama's powers away."

When he finished explaining, Keiko stared at him a minute, a mixture of horror and pity on her face. "How can you be so _calm_ about all this?"

Yuusuke blinked. "What?"

"You... you're telling me this like you're talking about the weather, or something that isn't... well, that isn't _important._ Aren't you worried about Kurama? If he doesn't have any of his powers, and someone is obviously out to get him, shouldn't he be somewhere safe?" She sat up, twisting in place to put her hands on her hips and glare. Oh, the countless times Yuusuke had seen that particular look. It never quite lost its power to set him a little aback.

"Whuh, well, I mean, come _on_. Kurama is, _you_ know. Kurama. He can handle himself. Besides, Hiei and Kuwabara and Yukina and Shizuru are all there with him. The only safer place in the whole world would be right here." He grinned, mock-punching her in the shoulder. "C'mon, Keiko, you know I wouldn't just leave if I didn't know he'd be okay."

Keiko continued her glaring, but nodded slowly.

"All right," she said. "I'll give you that much. But I want to go over and see if he needs anything when the weather clears up."

"Wha-- _why?_ He's got four people taking care of him already!"

Keiko threw up her hands and stood, sighing exasperatedly. "You can't expect Kazuma and Shizuru and Yukina to babysit him every minute, can you? I mean, even Hiei does... stuff. He has a life. Besides, he might appreciate having another normal human around. Might not make him feel so lonely."

"Who do we know that qualifies for normal?"

"_Yuusuke!"_

Yuusuke grimaced. That was the 'why are you still arguing with me, I've already won this argument no matter what you say' voice. Yuusuke held up his hands in surrender, waiting until a particularly loud peal of thunder died away before answering. Not that he still didn't think it was a stupid idea, but he couldn't exactly argue with Keiko.

"I'll take you with me when I go back tomorrow. It's too shitty out to go anywhere for now anyway. Roads are probably killer now."

Keiko sighed but nodded her head, relaxing against the couch again. Yuusuke shrugged and went to the kitchen to see what he could make for dinner, content - for now - that everything was all right in their little world.

* * *

Kurama rummaged through his closet on hands and knees, going through boxes stinking of _eu de mothball _and dust. He searched slowly, not wanting to leave the relative sanctuary of his bedroom while Kuronue was out there, waiting for him. It hadn't been so terrible when Kuronue had been sleeping. For an instant, _just_ an instant, Kurama had allowed himself to imagine that things may go back to the way they had been, that whatever storm was coming would blow over eventually and that things would be _right. _Then he realized that, despite his tiny delusion, the only _right_ for Kuronue would end in Youko Kurama's death as payment for the betrayal and torture he had endured for half a century.

He promised himself then that he would cry bitter tears for what he had lost later, even as he reached up to wipe those tears away from his eyes. His hands left his face feeling raw and hot. He grimaced at his own weakness, but let the tears come. It almost felt good, like bits of the fear and uncertainty was being drained away. Later, once things had settled more and he was alone, he would allow himself to weep as long as it took. For now, he had work to do.

Misa meowed at him from deep within his closet. She was perched on a stack of spare towels, staring at him in either concern or disdain. With cats, one could never tell. Kurama gave a wet chuckle and wiped his face on his shirt, smearing away the dust and tears and retreating back into a mask of normalcy. "It's okay," he told her, reaching out to scratch under her chin. "I'm just having a little freakout." She made a chuffing noise at his attention, poufed out her muzzle, and then curled up on the towels again, quite done with being petted for the moment. Kurama's hand lingered, and he watched her fall into slumber, seemingly undisturbed by the continuing growls of thunder... at least for now. He supposed she felt safer in the dark corner she'd put herself in, and really couldn't blame her. He was half tempted to crawl in there himself.

He pulled away and his knuckle scraped across grated metal -- the radio speaker. He pulled the thing from it's hiding place under the mothballs and carcasses of a few dead moths. Cobwebs stuck to the back of it, whisping away in the dark and sticking to his skin. Repulsed (although for no real reason he could discern) he dropped the radio and wiped the webs away, scraping his palms on the wall and the floor to make sure they were gone. Misa cracked open an eye and looked at him curiously a moment, then retreated back to sleep. He stood then, picked up the radio, and set it on his bed.

He looked around his room, at all the things he'd gathered and hoarded in here. Unlike the rest of the apartment, which was relatively neat and somewhat devoid of much personality, in his bedroom he'd made to emulate his old den as much as possible, even to the point of retrieving buried treasures from the places he'd hidden them long ago. Aside from the bedframe, all of the furniture that had come with the apartment he'd switched out for antiques he'd collected and hoarded away over the centuries, many of them things he knew Kuronue would recognize. The chest at the foot of his bed, for example, was one they'd stolen together nearly three hundred years ago; beautifully carved by a master craftsman, once the dowry chest of the soon-to-be empress of that ran his hands fondly over the carvings, tracing the figures of cranes and turtles and flowers that had been put there with hands that held more talent in them than he could imagine. He'd never been an artist, for all he could appreciate its beauty, and things like this he loved especially.

The chest he knew he couldn't hide, but he _could_ explain it away... or try to. He'd already implied to Kuronue that he 'worked with Youko,' so it wouldn't be too hard to expand on that bit of half-truth. He'd come up with plausible explanations for the chest, at least... the scrolls and the jewelry and the miscellanious treasures and things that adorned his walls, however...

Well, he could always imply that he'd received them as gifts from Youko. Or that he had them so he could pass them on to Kuronue. Or...something. _Damn._

He couldn't just explain all of it away, he wasn't that good a liar. He'd just have to keep Kuronue from his room as long as possible. It wouldn't be too hard. Kuronue didn't like walking into people's rooms unannounced (unless he was stealing from them) and certainly didn't like being around humans much... though, he'd been so _calm_ around Kuwabara when he'd woken up...

He was reading too much into things. And he was sure that Kuwabara and Kuronue were starting to wonder if he hadn't just passed out or something. He snatched up the radio and left his room, closing the door behind him. Misa wouldn't want to leave for a while, anyway.

Kuwabara had taken a seat at the table to wait, and Kuronue had begun pacing around the room slowly, examining all the furniture and electronics with quiet curiosity. Kuronue looked over to him now, as well as Kuwabara, and he averted his gaze, instead going to the table and setting down the radio.

The batteries were old, but strong enough for him to find a signal. Kuronue came closer to the table as he fiddled with the dials, watching curiously but keeping his silence. For a while, there was nothing but static. Then -

_"Emergency broadcast for the greater Tokyo Metropolitan area. A warning has been issued for all residents and citizens to remain indoors. Police, Fire and Rescue teams have been deployed to all areas of the city. All commuters are requested to stay at major train stations until the weather emergency has passed. This is an emergency broadcast for the greater To-"_ Kurama cut the sound, looking up at Kuwabara. Kuwabara stared back. Kuronue had begun to pace again, going to the windows and looking down on the dark city. The awkward silence came back and seemed to be settling in for a long stay, until Kuronue broke it.

"So this is...Tokyo," he murmured. "Once Edo. It used to be so much smaller." He turned from the windows and went to the table, standing closer to Kuwabara than to Kurama. "It seems..." he looked between them, his eyes intent, brow furrowed. Kurama knew that expression: Kuronue was worried, frightened, and unsure of what to do. _God_ how he wanted to take Kuronue into his arms and tell him everything would be all right. But that... absolutely could not happen. Instead, Kurama kept his silence, trying to look nothing more than politely indifferent. And ignoring the increasing frequency of the pointed looks Kuwabara was giving him.

"It seems," Kuronue said again, his eyes looking to each of them with an expression that was almost pleading, "that my only allies in this city would be... you."

* * *

He'd never flown so fast before. His wings felt ready to fall off, and the icy air stabbed his lungs until he was gasping for breath. When he finally made it to Youko's territory, it took all of his willpower not to collapse completely. "Kuro," he gasped to himself, leaning against the side of Youko's home, "You have not been working out enough." he chuckled weakly at the lame joke, caught his breath, and sprinted along the veranda to the door that opened into the main room of the house.

He wasn't surprised when Youko met him at the door, a blade of bamboo as sharp as any Tengu-forged sword in his hand, death in his eyes. Youko opened his mouth to speak, but Kuronue cut him off immediately.

"Get your things, we're leaving."

Youko blinked, and whatever had been on his mind died on his tongue. His mouth worked a moment, and a nearly comical expression of total confusion passed over his face. "_What?_"

Kuronue braced an arm against the door frame, once again trying to catch his breath. "Anything, as long as it's important and you can carry it. We've got to leave now. Right now."

Youko stared a moment longer, still with that dumbfounded look on his face. "What, what 'we?' Was I not clear when I said 'leave or I'll kill you? I didn't mean leave and come back, Kuronue. You-"

"Came back because if you don't pack up your shit and come with me now we're _both _going to die. Pack, stuff, now." His eyes narrowed, and he straightened, looking Youko in the eyes. "Please."

Youko didn't move, but he had seemingly forgotten his weapon. That, at least, was a start. The confusion was starting to fade from his eyes now, transforming into cold calculation, trying to figure out why Kuronue would come back, what the issue was, how he could turn it to his advantage. It turned to frustration soon after. "What have you learned?" He asked finally, eyes now intently on Kuronue, looking to him, for once, for answers.

"My," Kuronue took a breath, leaning fully against the door frame now. He was so tired, and he knew there would be no chance to rest, even with the little time they had. He could almost hear his father's armies sneaking through the woods after him. "My father somehow discovered I was here with you. He's marked me as a traitor, and you as an official enemy of the state, so to speak. He's sending armies here and they'll be here by dawn."

"I can handle an army," Youko said coolly, stepping away from the door enough for Kuronue to enter the house. Kuronue almost cried with relief. That, more than anything, meant Youko believed him, if nothing else. Youko slid the door shut behind him as he stumbled in. "Your father's tried this before. You knew this, I'm sure."

"Not like this. He's been calling in favors for months, ever since I left. Fire demons. They're going to burn the forest down before they move in."

Youko tensed, his eyes grew hot with fury. "Burn it down? Is he _mad?_ This forest, this mountain is more important than _either_ of us-"

Kuronue raised his hand, almost touching Youko's shoulder. "I know, he's... he's crazy, I don't know what happened. But we've got to go. It would be impossible for just the two of us to fight them off." Not when he'd almost killed himself flying to beat the sun. Youko nodded, looking around distractedly for a moment.

"I can, I can collapse part of the mountain over most of the house. Protect it from the fire. There are caves we can access through the back of my room. Meet me in there." He pointed, though it was useless; Kuronue had already turned to go there, trusting Youko wasn't lying about the cave and wouldn't just drop a mountain on the house with Kuronue in it. He kept an ear out though, listening to Youko move around in the front of the house, moving furniture and breakable things towards the back quickly.

It only took a few moments, but that was more than long enough for Kuronue to become anxious. How close was dawn? He'd flown for, what, an hour and a half? How long did they have? How far through the mountains did the caves stretch? Would they be stuck in there, trapped by fire or an unexpected collapse or...

"Move to the back," Youko said, coming into the room and breaking off his thoughts. He nodded and edged around until his back was against the furthest wall. Youko came to stand behind him, and made a single gesture with his hand.

It was horrifying. The whole house seemed to shake, the sound of stones and dirt and fallen trees dropping onto the front of the place like angry Earth Dragons in his ears, a great and terrible rumbling. He'd been caught in an earthquake once as a child, before his wings were developed enough to fly, and they terrified him.

Unthinking, he grabbed for Youko, gripping the kitsune's arm as the light from the front of the house vanished and they were buried. Youko was silent, but he didn't pull away. Once the rumbling had settled, Kuronue let go, glancing at Youko in the darkness, seeing nothing but a soft silver outline.

"I've a safehouse in Korea," Youko murmured. Kuronue imagined he'd turned, and they were looking at each other, but his night-vision wasn't the best. "We'll have to travel south a few days." There was a pause, and Kuronue felt like he was under scrutiny. "You didn't bring anything."

"There wasn't any time. Once Akira told me wha was happening-"

"Akira?"

"My brother. He's the one who warned me." Would Sojobo discover that betrayal? He hoped not. Akira had children, a wife... Sojobo would have them all killed. "I had to leave quickly, to warn you."

"You could have escaped by yourself," Youko pointed out, though there was no accusation in his voice. Kuronue had no answer to that, and the silence stretched between them. Then, Youko tensed.

"They're here. They've started killing the trees."

"We should go," Kuronue reminded him. He could hear Youko moving away, and suddenly, there was light. In Youko's hand a bell-shaped flower glowed like a tiny lantern, filling the room with a soft yellow glow.

He'd never been in Youko's room before, having always stayed in the 'guest' room closer to the front. It, like the bathing room and the 'treasury,' was windowless and den-like, filled with the many treasures Youko had gathered over the centuries. Kuronue felt a sudden sadness, knowing it would be a very long time before either of them would come back to this place, realizing he'd cost Youko his home.

He kept close to the wall, watching Youko move around. From a large chest emerged travel packs, little-used but in good condition. Into each went small treasures, a few scrolls, blankets and, in one, a tiny carved doll that held a place of honor in one of the wall recesses. Then he beckoned Kuronue over, opening a heavy wooden chest at the foot of his futon.

"Clothing. The things in here should fit you, if you don't mind being severely out of date with your fashions. You'll need something cooler, it gets very hot where we're going." He then moved to an armoire on the other end of the room, pulling out clothing for himself and haphazardly tossing it into his pack. Kuronue was a little more careful with what he chose, packing the clothing away gently, even though he was shaking with nerves. They should have been gone by now. How was Youko so calm, when the forest was starting to burn around them? Didn't he realize there wasn't any _time_ for this?

The light moved, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Youko, who nodded out to the hall. "Let's grab a few things from the treasure room, then we can go."

"You're sure?"

Youko nodded, moving to the door. "We have time. The caves let out near the base of the mountain, and it's an easy trip down. We'll rest and eat once we get further south, out of the valley."

Kuronue wanted to argue, but couldn't. Youko obviously knew the mountain better than he did, and it would be stupid to argue little details now. They needed to flee, but if Youko thought the best they could do was to go slowly, he'd follow.

They'd looted the treasure room easily, taking only the smallest of the treasures, leaving the rest to be protected by Youko's plants. They stood together at the 'secret' exit out to the caves (more like a glorified crawlspace that Youko likely only used when he took fox form) and listened.

"It sounds like rain," Kuronue said softly, staring down the exit tunnel.

"That's painfully ironic," Youko replied, his voice just as soft. After a moment, "You could have escaped by yourself."

"Yeah."

"But, you didn't."

"Yeah."

Silence stretched between them. The rain sounds of the fire grew closer. Youko shouldered his bag and ducked his head, pressing one hand to the top of the entrance. He glanced over his shoulder at Kuronue and, to Kuronue's great discomfort, smiled. "Let's go."

He disappeared down the tunnel and Kuronue followed, down into the dark of the mountain.

* * *

06/25/09

TBC

Massive thanks to HColleen for the help. 3


	11. Interference

Eleven

* * *

It was raining.  
Not that rain was anything _new._ Rain in Makai was common, often coupled with the thunderstorms headed by old Gods banished to Makai after humans had stopped believing in them, filled with rage and darkness and the power to strip the skin from a demon's bones.  
No, rain was not uncommon. Not in most parts of Makai. But, the nature and location of _this_ rain was new and unsettling.

It was a soft rain, a gentle soaking of the ground that turned the nearly desert landscape to a hazy veil. Tiny plants, dry and brown from the lack of rain in the area, had grown green and lush. The ground that had been cracked and brown was now growing a green carpet.

Observing all this from the cabin window, Mukuro stood with arms crossed and her one good eye narrowed to match her scowl. She didn't like this... softness in the area. The deserted plains were harsh lands, extending out to actual wasteland after this last beach of life-bearing soil. As much as you could call the bare scrub and desert grass life, anyway. It was her favorite part of Makai, barren and safe, close enough to civilization without being compromised, but enough out in the wasteland that it provided much needed privacy. If all else failed, the crawling fortress could even burrow into the sand deeper into the desert. All in all, a perfect hideout.

But now, the rain was ruining that, bringing life to the deadlands with steady stubbornness. What was worse, she knew who was behind it.

Tension had built in her shoulders, and she sighed, forcing herself to relax. There was no use being angry at the fox; he was probably in the Makai, letting off steam. Everyone had to, once in a while, but it was irritating when such a powerful demon turned his attention to creation rather than destruction.

_Or, _she thought ruefully, _Creative destruction._ The fox was destroying the desert by making it a marsh. Just like him, of course.

Perhaps that was why Hiei had left so abruptly, leaving his sword (a rather touching indicator that he would return) and a promise to reappear at first summons. Mukuro hadn't taken him up on that, yet, but she was becoming tempted. If she called him back, she'd know just why Yomi's stupid plaything was ruining her favorite 'vacation spot' on a whim, and why she was still the tiniest bit unsure as to whether it really _was_ Youko guiding the storm. The last she knew, foxes had no control over the weather, and the fox had made a vow not to return to Makai unless war was imminent.

If that was the case, at least she'd have something interesting to look forward to. However, she doubted it. Yomi was far too preoccupied with being a 'good father' for Shura, which meant long training expeditions between Yomi's private visits to Ningenkai to fuck Kurama or whatever nonsense they got up to. Even the little games her spies had been playing with his had gotten so dull the spymasters on each side had taken up going out to drinks together for lack of anything else to do. War would be a sweet relief from the softness Makai was starting to have seep in at its edges. Even _Hiei_ was turning into a sentimental fool, running off to Ningenkai every few weeks ago to check on his sister, or Kurama, or (of all stupid, pointless things) watch a baseball game.

Hiei's weirdness she blamed on that stupid human game and the fox. The rest of it she had nothing to blame on... just time and boredom. She briefly entertained the idea of going and poking at her plant-father for a bit, but set that thought aside. While torturing the old man was always delightful, she wasn't always in the mood for it. Especially now, watching tiny, brave flowers grow and open to fullness on the dampening ground. It made her feel young and girlish, made her remember gentler times.

She decided instead to strap on her heaviest boots and go tromping around outside; destroying every flower she could smash her feet on. She sent a brief word of instruction to the ship's navigator and went to her chambers, finding a pair of thick-soled, metal inlaid boots and pulling them on with gusto, before fairly skipping (or, as close as she got to the activity, which was more of a brisk walk that made everyone within hearing distance of those boots scramble out of her way) out of the hull doors and into the foggy faux-spring outside of her ship.

After the first minute, Mukuro's tromping had died down to a slow, contemplative walk. Yes, the flowers were crushed quite nicely under her heavy boots, but the smell they gave was sweet and refreshing, mingling with the loamy scent of the earth and the wetness in the air. She held her hands linked behind her back as she walked, gazing off into the horizon on one side, the plains on the other. Briefly she thought that the only thing that would make this silly walk more ludicrous and saccharine would be a unicorn to pop up and lay its head in her lap. Horrified, she realized that the fantasy ended not with herself killing the poor creature and feeding it to her underlings, but sitting down and actually _petting_ the thing.

"What in all the Gods' names is wrong with me," she said to the rain, receiving nothing but the soft patter of rainfall as her answer. Then, a second sound interrupted - it sounded suspiciously like hooves.

She turned abruptly, identifying the sound as not a unicorn - thank all the Gods -but a horse-demon in one of her scouting groups. Next to him was a large-nosed kotengu left over from the Tournament, and on the Horse's other side was a skanky cat demon Mukuro had bought from a brothel for his particular ability to find humans in barren terrain.

Hoisted over the shoulder of the horse was a tattered, wretched creature that at one time had been a young kitsune. Now it was bloody, dirty, and nearly dead, having somehow found its way to the middle of the dead plains.

Mukuro gave her scouts a curious look, and went to intercept them. They stopped and bowed in front of her, then the kotengu stepped forward, his bright red face almost uncannily made more vivid against the greyness of the surroundings.  
"Master, we found a fox. It was dropped here by a wheeled transport not unlike a human all-terrain vehicle. The parties that left him and their transport are gone before the fourth hour of rain, and cannot be tracked beyond several miles. The fox is alive now, but would require extensive medical help if it is to survive."

Mukuro nodded, taking in the information and filing it all away quickly. Foxes were nearly impossible to find this far from a city or substantial forest. Whatever this one had done, it had been dropped likely with the intent that it would either die or become someone else's problem. The horse grunted and interrupted her thoughts, shifting the fox's weight on his shoulder. The cat was looking at her intently, noticing when her attention returned to them.  
"Friend or food?" The cat asked, the question echoed either in voice or gesture by his companions.

She thought on this a moment, and then nodded. "Take him to Yulla. She'll have him patched up and we can ask who is brave enough to not watch a fox die and burn its body so it causes no more trouble." the three nodded and obeyed, turning to the ramp leading into the body of the ship. The horse's heavy plodding she could hear long minutes after. She waited, continuing her odd vigil in the rain, before following them, ordering the door closed behind her.

Yulla was an old bitch - literally as well as figuratively, being a demon dog - who served as the ship fortress's main healer. Her talent was unparalleled among any others that had filtered through the fortress' rosters over the centuries, and Mukuro respected her. More than that; she _liked_ the ornery old biddy.

Once the emaciated fox was laid out for her, Yulla set to work, poking, prodding, snapping orders out to her assistants with brutal and cold efficiency. She had no bedside manner, but that was to be expected. She was a doctor from times of war. One didn't coddle soldiers.

Mukuro watched, gazing thoughtfully at the display. The fox had lost an eye - his left - and had been obviously starved. There were lacerations on his wrist and neck, probably his ankles too. He'd put up a struggle, if the oozing wounds on his knuckles and fingertips (now mostly bare of the fingernails) were any indication. If that was the case, he'd either fight to be alive or have given up all hope by now. She hoped it was the former; she wanted to know just who could trap a fox so well.

An hour passed. Yulla finally looked up from her work.

"Eye's been pecked out," she growled. Her voice was always a growl. Mukuro wondered if it was genetics or attitude.

"Pecked?"

"Bird, or some damn fine tweezers. Looks like Tengu work, that 'Crane Plucks The Minnow' or whatever move they like to use when they're being real assholes." The last Yulla punctuated by viciously cutting a string of catgut she'd sewn the fox up with. "Socket's clean; we can get him a glass one, if he decides to wake up."

"Does he need a sit in one of the tanks?"

Yulla scowled at her. It was the 'and where did _you_ learn how to heal, HM?' scowl. She hated those tanks with a passion. Mukuro relented.

"Where's your shadow?" Yulla asked after the scowl had faded to her more customary glower. It was Mukuro's turn to make a face.

"He's out," she said, one hand straying to her hip, where Hiei's sword hung. "Some business."

Yulla snorted. "I'll call you when this one wakes up," she growled, waving Mukuro away and turning to start cleanup. Mukuro took the hint and made herself scarce, wondering why Yulla was the only demon in all the world that could talk to her like a child and she didn't resent for it.

She thanked the old Gods that there were no windows here, and that she couldn't hear the rain, but its soft patter still buzzed in her mind. Mukuro's hand rested on the hilt of Hiei's sword, and she wished he would come back soon.

* * *

Shizuru was close to breathing a sigh of relief once they made it to the top of the stairs, but relief was burned away by horror.

The buildings were still smoldering. Emergency vehicles were milling around, running, but apparently unmanned. Underneath the wheels of the closest police car she could see one of the bewildered schoolgirls they'd passed. Still clutched in her right hand was the cell phone she had been snapping pictures with. Crows were pecking at her eyes.

There were other corpses, too. People she'd seen when Hiei had dragged her and Yukina down into the tunnel. Some of the corpses were full of bullet holes, others seemed to have been run over, or their faces smashed in by some blunt object. Apparently, Emergency Services had decided to make their own emergency instead of putting out the fire spreading from the Mycal building to the apartments on the other side of the street. The empty, silent street.

"What happened?" Yukina breathed, covering her mouth. Whether to muffle the sound of her voice or to ward off the stench of rain and fire and death Shizuru didn't know. She guessed all of the above.

"I don't-" Hiei began, but was cut off by a wholly unfamiliar sound under muffled screams from the tunnel they had just left. They turned as one and watched as a businessman ran, screaming, from the tunnel's entryway. In one hand he clutched a breifcase that had popped open, the papers spilling behind him in a white trail. He spotted them, and began sprinting in their direction. He was screaming, mostly incoherent, but what Shizuru could decipher was more than what she wanted to hear.  
_  
OH GOD HELP ME THEY'RE SHOOTING EVERYONE HELP HELP HEL-  
_  
And then there was that sound again, a kind of _pith-thunk_ sound like a small stone being dropped in a large amount of water, and the man went down, his forehead exploding in a brilliant flower of blood, gray matter, and bone. Behind him, an officer in riot gear stood, weapon aimed and still smoking from the silencing barrel. Two more officers flanked him - if it was a him at all - their weapons hanging easily at their sides.

Later, she'd be impressed at how Hiei could juggle two women still clutching stubbornly to full bags of groceries, dodge semi-automatic rifle fire, and manage to get from ground level to the top of a nine-story building in less than the time it took for the next round of fire to go from the first officer's gun to the point where they had been standing second-fractions before. For now, she felt like she was going to vomit, but managed to keep a retching to a minimum until they were safely out of the line of fire. The thunking sound from the gun echoed through the streets despite the silencer and the dull rain, cutting off when the officer realized there was nothing to shoot.

On the roof, Hiei set Shizuru down, letting her stumble off and retch out her lunch behind the roof exit door. Yukina followed, holding her hair back with cool hands. Shizuru thanked her silently, taking slow, deep breaths. She hadn't just seen a man die, she'd heard his soul screaming in agony as it was wrenched from his body. As if... as if it wasn't his _time._ To make matters worse, she couldn't feel the presence of any shinigami anywhere. Just angry, recent ghosts.

When she was done, Yukina handed her a bottle of water from one of the grocery bags, and a handkerchief. Shizuru thanked her and took the water, washing the acidic taste out of her mouth. She still felt queasy, but damned if she'd let a little stomach upset keep her down. Standing, she made her way over Hiei, who was glancing over the edge of the building. Following his gaze, she could see the Officers that had shot at them searching the street carefully, swinging around flashlights into the slowly darkening alleyways and door frames.

"The police are still in their cars," Hiei remarked, his voice tense. He pointed, and she squinted her eyes.

In some of the emergency vehicles still sat the drivers and teams. Uniformed corpses were strewn among the plainclothes dead.

"Who are they, then?" she kept her voice hardly a whisper. Yukina had come over, and was clinging to her arm. "Terrorists? They're having trouble with that shit in America."

"Not human," Hiei pointed to his jagan. "Something down there wanted me to see them."

"I _saw_ that. You scared the shit out of me; I thought they were going to shoot you."

Hiei gave her a withering look at the very thought of actually being slow enough to get _hit_ by one of those things, but it faded quickly back into a scowl of concern. "I was being manipulated. And whoever _they_ are have been spreading."

"You're tracking them? Can't they sense it?"

"Not from this range, they shouldn't."

"I'd rather you say they can't," she mumbled. "Where did they all _come_ from? There must have been hundreds."

"Maybe a portal, or something like a-"

The harsh scream of a crow cut him off mid-sentence. Again they all turned, looking into the gaping gullet of a screaming bird. It flapped its mangy, nasty wings at them and called again. Another crow, further away, screamed as well. Still more appeared on lines and rooftops, surrounding them in a half-circle, backs to the street.

"Shiiiiit," Shizuru put a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide. "Where the fuck did they come from..." Her question was answered before the sentence was finished. Where the first crow had stood was now one of the mock-officers from the street.

"Tengu," Hiei hissed, reaching again for Shizuru and Yukina.

"Sure is getting crowded up here," Shizuru muttered. Yukina laughed nervously. Six more crows humanized themselves. The visors over their faces reflecting watery light from the street. Shizuru repressed a shudder; Hiei's hand was around her wrist again. A second later, and the crow-men moved as one, surging forward like a swarm.

* * *

Deafening cracks of thunder had given way to soft growls punctuated by bright, blinding flashes of lightning. Each flare brought the room into different high relief, making Kuronue's eyes hurt and his mind spin. He watched the two humans in front of him look at each other, unsure what to do after his rather bold statement.

He hadn't been exaggerating; he had no other contacts in the human world. As eager as he had been to leave earlier, there was no way he could go back to Makai or the home he and Kurama had shared without attracting more attention than he could handle. As for slumming it around the city, he didn't know who his brother's spies were, where they operated, and how many of them there were. The city itself was a labyrinth of sensation and confusion, and the last place he wanted to be stuck without a base of operations.

That, and he was wary. He'd been only half conscious when the human Shuuichi had murmured something to the effect of "he can't know," referring to himself. Can't know what, exactly? He was being lied to, somehow; he was sure of it. He'd be embarrassed to call himself Youko Kurama's partner if he couldn't spot something so simple as a lie. But, so far, he couldn't catch either Shuuichi or his now-absent demon friend in whatever the lie was.

It disturbed him more now being back in the apartment he'd fled from so quickly. He hadn't noticed it before, but the entire place was drenched in Kurama's scent and youki. The multitude of plants growing around the place all reeked of his energy, and Shuuichi practically radiated it under that distinct scent and feel of 'human.' Were they lovers, maybe? No, Kurama never attached himself to humans. What, then? The feel of Kurama's youki was fresh, but... somehow distant. Like it was slowly but steadily fading. Perhaps he'd attached to the human and gotten bored, moved on.

No. That didn't fit Kurama at all. But _what?_ What was he missing here? Kurama had abandoned him decades ago, for reasons he still couldn't fathom though the betrayal still stung like a salted wound. Not for this human, surely. Shuuichi wasn't nearly old enough, despite being Youko's type. Like all the other 'guests' Youko had invited into their little trysts, Shuuichi was of the pretty but strong variety: good looking, almost to the point of being androgynous pretty, but strong and full of the stamina of youth.

Kuronue quickly squashed those memories before his imagination got out of hand. Fifty years of solitude hadn't done much to kill his sex drive, and waking up with his head in the lap of an attractive male - human or no - had been more than enough to improve his general mood.

All these thoughts over the span of a moment, though it felt longer. Time seemed so different here, outside of his metal prison. It seemed like the silence had stretched hours when Shuuichi finally spoke up.

"I do not know what I can offer," Shuuichi's voice was soft, but raw.

From the bruises that stood out in sharp relief on his skin, Kuronue could guess why. Kuronue's hands itched and he crossed his arms, feeling more than a little guilty. He'd been too rough.

Shuuichi continued. "My home is small, but it is open to you. I'm not sure that I, I," he hesitated, looking to Kuwabara.

The look that passed between them was... very deep. Very disconcerting, though Kuwabara seemed to be trying to look encouraging. That was hopeful. Kuronue liked the taller human; the man seemed very calm and capable, unperturbed by the presence of a demon.

Still, the secrecy bothered him. _What am I missing? What clue do I not have? _He chewed the inside of his cheek, watching them. Finally, whatever silent conversation passed was over.

Shuuichi bowed his head. "You have our backing as you need," he murmured, and Kuwabara beamed brightly.

Thank the Gods, that was settled. Kuronue felt relief lift the pressure from his shoulders, letting him uncross his arms and relax. He pulled out a chair for himself, sitting directly across from Kuwabara, who was still grinning. Kuronue liked the Kuwabara fellow. For a human, he seemed very personable, and the reiki that surrounded him was strong, but unthreatening. Like a large but friendly dog.

"It isn't just Shuuichi an' me," Kuwabara said, taking over as Shuuichi lapsed into silence. "Without going into too much boring detail, we're part of a good-sized group. Lots of connections, lots of people you can go to if you can't find either of us. My sister excluded, because she's crazy. Anyway, you got a lot of help, Kuronue, if you want it."

Kuronue nodded. Interesting how easily they accepted, how eager they were to help. But, best not to look that gift horse in the mouth for now. He had _something,_ even if that something was the help of humans. He could deal.

"You'll need identification," Shuuichi said, folding his hands on the table. The human seemed to change subtly, from vulnerable and unsure to businesslike, professional. Interesting. "Funds, clothing, possibly transportation."

Kuronue smirked and flexed his wings. "I have my own."

"There are too many demons around..." Shuuichi's eyes narrowed, his expression changed from neutral to irritated. "You'll be noticed."

"Barrier to Makai's been dropped," Kuwabara supplied. "Uh, big stuff's happened since you've been gone. But there's talk of re-integration and stuff. Lots of youkai hanging around in the city, provided they aren't flesh-eaters."

"Or are quiet about being such." Shuuichi finished. "You won't be able to fly around unnoticed for long, and information is currency here just as much as it is in Makai. Anyone with a debt will be looking for someone who is interested in a new Tengu flying around like he owns the place."

Kuronue listened quietly, narrowing his eyes. Was that a _commanding_ tone in Shuuichi's voice?

_Huh, no wonder Youko likes him. Arrogant little pup._

He was about to snap back a snide comment about not needing a human to tell him what to do (and how stupid that would have been, in retrospect) when Kuwabara shot up out of his chair, eyes wide.

"There has just been an extreme fucking disturbance in the Force," Kuwabara said, his voice tight. He walked briskly to the balcony doors, shoving open the screens with his shoulders. Shuuichi followed immediately, and Kuronue, curious as well as feeling he had no choice, brought up the rear.

Looking down on the street there was little to see. The humans next to him looked suitably worried by the flashing lights and the myriad vehicles speeding down the roads to the center of the destruction (office buildings, still gushing smoke and little tongues of fire) which to him didn't seem like any _great_ interest, but he supposed their worry was justified. He was still confused about that 'the force' comment, anyway. Humans these days spoke so strangely.

"Look, over there," Shuuichi gestured towards a break in the buildings, a crossroads where a metal bridge-building stood attached to track lines. "Did you see those flashes of light?"

Kuronue hadn't, but Kuwabara nodded his head. "That's weird, they're coming from over there, too." He pointed as well, down along the path of the rail tracks where they dipped underneath the street.

"And the office buildings, over there..." Shuuichi's eyes were narrowed. "That doesn't seem... right."

"No..." Kuwabara began pacing along the balcony. Kuronue took his place at the railing, glancing over the streets.

There didn't seem anything particularly out of place to him (at least, out of place beyond the general weirdness of there being a city where once there was wilderness) but the humans seemed nervous. Kuronue caught the bright lights further along the street, past the buildings Shuuichi had pointed out. This time, they were out on the actual street, near a tunnel leading underground. He squinted, and could barely make out figures in the gloom. Three of them, tall, human, but something was off. He tried to look closer, and watched as they burst into flight. Tengu. Specifically, ko-tengu, probably low level crows that were just old enough to take human form. On the rooftops near there, more lingered, in crow and human shape, most of them flocking to one rooftop in particular. And from that rooftop, he could see something... dark hurtling towards them.

He had just enough time to throw himself out of the way when a cannonball in the shape of people shot past Kuwabara and Shuuichi, knocking both humans over. He had enough time to register that it was Shuuichi's demon friend, another demon female, and the woman he'd seen lingering on the balcony. There was a moment of shouting, general entanglement on the part of the humans, and a lot of cursing. The woman he'd seen leaped to her feet, pointing at him. Before she could _say_ anything, however, the black body of a crow hurtled into him, knocking him aside. He turned, ready to attack, and stopped.

The sky, already dark and bloated from stormclouds, was now black with the bodies of crows.

* * *

9/9/09

TBC

Thanks hcolleen for betaing. Questions, comments, etc always welcome.


	12. Timing

Twelve

Timing

* * *

  
For a brief, insane moment, Kurama thought he'd been hit by a car. Two thoughts occurred after that. The first: _No, that's what Yuusuke does._ The second: _How did a car get all the way up here?_

It was in the middle of trying to figure out the second question that he realized he had not, in fact, been hit by a car, and that Hiei, Yukina, and Shizuru were all either sprawled, standing, or screaming in his living room. He also realized that his injured arm suddenly felt more along the lines of 'injured and painful' than 'injured and healing.' In the confusion, he'd fallen, landing on that arm with all of his body weight. His final realizations were that he was being rained on, and that there were birds. Birds everywhere. A black, screaming swarm of birds.

He pulled himself up shakily, using the railing around the balcony for support, still dazed, still not entirely sure what was happening. Shizuru was shouting from just inside the doors, but the words were indecipherable above the racket the crows and the pounding headache in his ears were making.

Dazed, he turned, facing a flash of orange light and a spray of dark red. Suddenly, singed feathers were tossed through the stormy air, and hot blood was on his skin; he could taste it, he was breathing it.

Kuwabara stood with Jigen-tou in hand, slicing at battalions of crows. They went down in groups and were immediately replaced. Just beside Kuwabara, Kuronue was slashing at the flock  
_Murder, groups of crows are called murders_  
with hands and claws, his eyes wild, distressed, furious. Something from the direction of the living room flew into part of a cluster; Kurama recognized the leg of his coffee table braining an unfortunate crow and following down the hundreds of feet to unforgiving cement. Another chunk of table lodged itself in the wing of a different crow, and it spiraled into one of its group. Down they went, screaming.

A hand grabbed him. He was pulled roughly back from the railing, and was surprised to find it was Yukina dragging him in. She was talking. Or, maybe she was. Her mouth was moving but he could swear no sound was coming out.

_God_ his head hurt. He looked around dumbly for something to fight with, finding instead Hiei, crouching down, hands over face, blood seeping from between locked fingers.

His ears popped, and suddenly noise was a reality he had no part of. Someone, impossibly, had put the world on mute. He turned again, watching the silent play of Alfred Hitchcock's _The Birds: Remastered_ as it was acted out before him.

Yukina had let Kurama go in favor of going to Hiei and attempting to pry the fingers away from his face. Shizuru stood not two feet from them, tossing whatever she could find at the crows. Beyond her Kuronue grappled with a crow that was rapidly becoming man sized and shaped. Then Kuwabara, Jigen-tou ablaze, cutting down what he could, battling off with his free hand what he couldn't.

Shizuru's next throw hit the man-crow-thing that was scrabbling for Kuronue's eyes square in the temple, knocking it on its side. Kuronue tossed it away, making a grab for Kuwabara as he did. Another man-bird-thing was falling down on them, feet/talons out to slice the skin from their faces. It missed, and they dove for the door. Yukina gestured, and the open doorway was a sudden wall of ice. Steam rolled off the ice in sheets, countering the humid air in the room.

The first sound to break through the haze of silence surrounding Kurama's head was the sound of shattering glass. He turned, back towards his room.

"The windows..." He was unsure whether he actually spoke the words or was just thinking them. Either way, everyone turned to stare down the hallway to his room, the little den, and the bathroom. More glass shattered, and then the door to his room bulged out like a jellyfish bloating on the tide. Then it splintered, spilling faux-wood splinters out into the hallway. He jumped back, colliding with Kuwabara and Kuronue. A thing that was now more man than crow stood in the broken doorway, hunched down, eyes wild, wings mantling over its shoulders. It was bleeding.

No. Not bleeding. Blood did not _skitter_ the way the blackness dripping from the Tengu's mouth did.

Not blood.

_Spiders._

Kurama would have run, right then and right fucking there, if it had not been for the tortured screech coming from the area of his closet. Another Tengu, more crow-like than the one blocking the door, was dangling Misa from a back leg. The cat was writing, screeching, flailing with her claws desperately. The Tengu lifted her above its head, as if curious, and then opened its beak wide, ready to swallow her whole, claws and all, as neatly as a pill.

Later, much later, Kurama would think back and imagine the next few moments as being not unlike a benign possession in the same way Raizen's sudden takeover of Yuusuke during that battle so long ago. Now, though, his body moved without any real consent from his mind. A hand - Kuronue's - was on his arm. Whether holding him back or holding him up he could not tell. A smooth roll of the shoulder released Kuronue's grip and he moved forward, conscious and unconscious of what he intended to do. He bent, taking into his hands a splintered chunk of what was once his door. It was long, thin, sharp. For now, it would have to do as well as a sword.

The Tengu that blocked his doorway was speaking, or something like speaking. It and the pained yowling from his cat were the only things he could _hear._ Or perhaps it wasn't hearing so much as paying attention over the growing static in his mind.  
_Good, hoomunz,_ it said, its voice thick, hissing around the tiny spiders that crawled in and out of its disgusting black gullet; through its awful, beaky nose. 

_Good hoomunz. Gib uz de gat, gib us de draidor, an all wi' be well. Good, good-  
_  
And it kept right on talking, right on spitting little black spiders with every word while Kurama walked up to it in a dreamlike slowness that was like swimming in cotton. It kept on talking, right up until Kurama took the blunt end of the splinter firmly into one hand and shoved it right up through the roof of the Tengu's mouth. It bled to his satisfaction then, blackish-red ichor sliding like oil from the wound, down the splinter, staining his hand. Most of the tiny spiders scattered, repelled or repulsed by either the blood or whatever force (and that's what it had to be, didn't it? He couldn't possibly be doing this on his own. No _human_ could do this) propelled him.

Easily, like a knife from soft butter, he removed the splinter, turning his attention then to the Tengu that held his poor, struggling cat. It had stopped halfway through the motion of readying the cat to eat to stare at him, head cocked, its eyes saying _Excuse me, but you can't possibly have just done that._

_Hey,_ he thought back, wondering a moment if he was actually voicing the reply, _I'm just as confused as you are. _Completely free of his thoughts, his hand moved to spin the splinter in the air, catching it at the tip. A lazy (to him, it seemed almost like slow motion) flick of his wrist sent the makeshift weapon spinning through the air, missing his cat by degrees, and lodging business-end first in the Tengu's eye.

A look of dull, almost distracted surprise filled the Tengu's face and it dropped the cat, who limped pitifully across the room to curl up behind Kurama's legs. The Tengu clawed at its face for one minute... two... and then collapsed, as dead as its partner, half sprawled on Kurama's bed. Satisfied with this, Kurama bent and picked up his cat, cradling her against his chest. There were more Tengu, circling around the building, flying at windows, screaming.

Then, thunder. A roll like a kettle drum followed by a crack that made Kurama's heart stop. He clutched at the cat, the cat clawed him, and he backed away, into Kuronue. Lightning flashed in his eyes, The sky went from white to black and back again like a strobe. The crows blackened the windows, lightning flashed between their feathers as they flew into the apartment, talons and beaks destroying whatever they could get at.

_"Move! Both of you, move!"_

Behind him, there was a flash of orange-golden light, and the feeling of ice. Kurama tried to back away further and stumbled into Kuronue. They hugged the wall, slipping over ice that had once been his carpet, staying out of the range of the lancing arrows of reiki from Kuwabara. Kurama realized belatedly that Kuronue was shielding him with a wing, warding off the crows so intent at tearing them all to pieces. He shudderd. And then, it stopped.

_

* * *

  
Call them off, for now._

Tadashi jumped, startled. His hands hovered over the glowing sphere of the kitsune-bi, and then hastily closed over it to kill the light that filled this part of his room. The jewel burned his hands, but he paid the pain no heed.

He knew whatever pain a burn could bring was nothing compared to breaking his promises to the shadowed voice.

"Call," he licked suddenly dry lips and cradled the stone to his chest. The power was searing his hands, a smell of burnt meat wafted through the air. "Call them off?"

_Yes. They have fulfilled their purpose, and the day comes on swift wings._

Tadashi mentally counted the hours. It would be dawn soon. Had the night gone so fast? Ah, he would not complain. He had no choice.

Straining, he reigned in the energy that spilled from the kitsune-bi, fueling the storm and forming their flighted warriors to the building he could only dimly see far off in the darkness. What a surprise, realizing how close the fox had lived for all this time. How easy it would have been to just walk into his home and kill him, without all this subterfuge. Without having to deal with the unpleasantness of their former prisoner.

The storm subsided, the crows dispersed. The jewel in his hand ceased it's burning, the glow dying down to a dull ember's light. Tadashi felt the presence of the voice next to his ear, and the feeling of numbness on his cheek like a kiss. Job well done.

_Now I go to do my work. Rest now; soon it will be time to move again._

And then it was gone, and he was alone. He opened his hands, looking at the circular burns on his palms, blackening under the force of the heat that had cooled to stone in the jewel.

Soon.

* * *

The thunder died. Not the lingering, rumbling death of a natural storm, but a sudden stop, like a light switch being flicked off.

Kurama peeked out from within the circle of Kuronue's wings, glancing around at the destruction. Underfoot, the carpet was already beginning to thaw after Yukina's attack. it was littered with crow corpses and marks where Kuwabara's reiki had hit wide. A quick look into his room showed even more destruction, dead crows, and everythign covered in an inch-thick layer of ice.

He sighed, stepping carefully out into the hall to see. Kuronue's hand lingered on his shoulder, but fell away. He glanced back at Kuronue, who was bending to examine one of the bodies. Kurama, feeling very much like he was tresspassing, stepped a little further away, giving him room.

There was a sting, right underneath his wrist. Kurama turned his arm to look, juggling Misa (although he didn't need to, her claws were holding her in place just fine) to his injured as he did, ignoring the jab of pain. There, half-drowned in the blackish blood that covered his arm to the elbow, was one of those nasty little black spiders. He sneered at it and smacked his wrist against the wall, leaving a smear of blood and the spider, it's legs twitching in a final death spasm. he then tried wiping his arm on the side of his pants, only succeeding in smearing the blood around further. It was like slimy grease, and didn't seem to want to come off.

"Shit, they don't hold back, do they?" It was Shizuru, standing now next to him and surveying the damage. It was impossible to tell if she was talking abou the birds or her brother and Yukina.

"I don't..." he began, but trailed off. he looked at his wrist again, and then past Kuronue into the living room, where Yukina was bandaging Hiei's face while Kuwabara held a flashlight for her. What had happened to him? He gestured vaguely. "Something bit me." Two sets of eyes snapped to him, and he held out his blood-smeared arm. "A spider," he clarified, feeling very much like a small child. He wasn't thinking on the same level as usual. Vocabulary was becoming difficult to manage. Kuronue took his hand to examine it, and Shizuru went immediately back to the living room, calling for Yukina.

"Since when do Tengu work with spiders," Kuronue was murmuring, trying to wipe the blood away. "And these Tengu... they're too young to take human shape."

Kurama looked at him, completely at a loss for what to say. He was saved from having to think harder for some kind of reply by Shizuru returning and dragging him by the shirt collar to the living room. There he saw Kuwabara balancing a salad bowl full of water on one hand and holding a roll of paper towels in the other, trying to navigate the wreckage and set them down within Yukina's reach. Hiei, now laying sedately on the floor, looked like he'd fallen asleep. There were fresh bandages over his left and third eyes, blood already starting to soak through. The bandages were covered with the remains of Hiei's warded bandana. Kurama shuddered.

"What happened to-"

"Siddown," Shizuru cut him off, plunking him on the floor next to Yukina. He felt embarrassingly like a rag doll.

Kuwabara managed to put down the bowl and the towels without mishap, then taking Misa from Kurama's unresisting hands. Yukina began cleaning away the ichor, with little success. Frowning, she examined the wound closely, pulling his skin taut, peering close as if she could see whether or not there was venom. She probably could, for all Kurama knew.

"A spider bite?" She asked, reaching for her kit. She pulled out gauze, rubbing alcohol, tiny scissors, and medical tape, laying each out by her knee in order of use.

"One of the little black ones that were... er, in the Tengu," he replied, juggling with Misa again, who was trying to crawl into his shirt. Yukina shook her head, wiping down the bite and the surrounding skin with the alcohol. That, at least, seemed to get most of the blood off.

"You hit your arm when you fell, too," Yukina was murmuring, one cool hand resting on the bandages she'd put there earlier in the day. Kurama managed not to wince.

"What happened to Hiei?" He managed to ask finally, settling back and letting Yukina work on him.

"One of them big buzzards got him," Shizuru said, casting look at Kuronue that was imperceptible. Kuronue stared back, unmoved. The temperature in the room became impossibly colder. Shizuru pulled a sad-looking pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, floundered for a lighter that wasn't there, sighed, and returned the pack to her pocket. "They went for his eyes," she muttered, going to the one unruined couch. She seemed hesitant to sit, and then did, flopping down bonelessly, exhausted. "what time is it?"

No one answered. She glanced around, and settled her sights on Kurama. "Don't you have a clock in here?"

He shifted uncomfortably, earning a displeased noise from Yukina. "They're all digital," he muttered lamely. Shizuru's glare intensified. He found himself praying that she'd leave it at that and not ask the question he knew she was going to.

"You don't have a _single_ wall clock in here?" Oh, thank you universe, for never giving the weary a rest.

Kurama looked down, embarrassed. "I don't like the ticking noise," he admitted, feeling a hot flush crawl up the back of his neck. Did she _have_ to humiliate him like this? He was horribly aware of her stare not wavering. Then she sighed, sinking back into the couch. He had a sinking feeling she'd ask him about it again later. And then tease him mercilessly about it.

Silence drifted through the room again, broken only by the flutter of wind through the now uncomfortably airy apartment, and the distant sirens of the city.

Yukina sighed when she finished with Kurama's arms, the left bandaged neatly with gauze where the spider had bitten, the right set from wrist to shoulder, now numb with whatever healing magic and medicine she had used on him. Kuwabara took the opportunity to speak up then.

"I don't know about the rest of you," he said, glancing about the room, "but I'd feel a lot better if we were somewhere else. I've got my truck, and it isn't too long a drive to Genkai's place. We don't know how long this calm'll last, and I don't like taking chances."

Kurama smiled. It would always be 'Genkai's Place' for them, no matter how long it had been since she died. He nodded.

"I'm for that. Kuronue?" He looked to the Tengu, who seemed surprised to be addressed. Kurama tried a reassuring smile. "It's a temple we all trained at. Much more defensible than here, out of the city." That seemed to relax Kuronue a bit, and the Tengu nodded.

"I can't argue, I'm just a tagalong here. If you say it's safer," a shrug, more with wings than shoulders, "then it's safer."

Kuwabara crossed the room, handing Misa back to Kurama, then bending to hoist Hiei over one shoulder. "Let's get going now, then. I don't want to be here when they come back."

The rustle and clatter of everyone moving to go seemed overloud in the windy silence. Kurama held onto the cat, hooking one of the grocery bags (Shizuru demanded they take it all with, considering the trouble they'd gone through) over his elbow. Kuronue grabbed a bag as well, following behind. Yukina and Shizuru brought up the rear. Kurama didn't bother locking up; didn't even take a final glance as they trooped mutely down the hall to the emergency staircase. He only stopped when they began to pile into Kuwabara's truck, glancing up the tower to his window. Black feathers still fluttered on the breeze, their fall like dry rain.

* * *

Never in his life had Youko needed to deal with a claustrophobic demon. A few humans, yes. One of note who was a partner in China for a few months before the hiding in dark places drove the poor man's nerves until they were shot. Humans didn't like being confined to dark places. For them, it was apparently a terrible, horrible thing. Most demons, however, didn't suffer the same affliction.

Except for Kuronue.

Youko could kind of understand _why_ Kuronue was having a mild fit as they picked their way through the narrow caves that led down the mountain, and would be charitable and attribute it to the urgency of the situation, but it was annoying. After an hour of "Are we there _yet?_" Youko had made it quite clear that he'd leave Kuronue in the tunnels if another word was said on the matter. It was difficult enough going through these tunnels alone, more so now.

He had to force thoughts of his home out of his head. He had to not think of how much he loved being there, of how eventually someone would dig through the rubble and find the place, that his old treasures and memories and life would again be compromised. He had to force himself to be optimistic, to remember that picking up and moving at a moment's notice was nothing new, that he would move on and eventually forget the place. He had to then remind himself that the forgetting part was a lie, and that losing the one stable home he'd had in his life outside of a brothel thousands of miles away was probably going to be an issue for a long, long while.

Still, it was better than dying. It was better than losing to Sojobo, that idiot, and surrendering everything he'd worked for with inevitable struggle.

_Think of it this way,_ he told himself, picking along a path that had partially caved in. _You lost a home, but you gained a partner. _Besides, while Kuronue was no substitute for 'home,' he wasn't all bad. Intelligent, a quick learner, strong, and easy on the eyes. Loyal, too, or at least loyal on a more-than-immediate-interest basis. Of course, that loyalty could be singularly attributed to self-preservation, but Youko had over the last hour and few minutes convinced himself that it would be unwise to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A rumble and a sudden thin waterfall of earth shook him out of his thoughts. He looked back at Kuronue, who had gone still as stone behind him, eyes wide with barely-suppressed panic. Even a few feet away Youko could smell the terror rolling of Kuronue in waves, and applauded him for not up and running the way Youko knew he wanted to.

The shifting of dirt and rock slowed to a trickle, leaving a little mound on the pathway, barely a foot high. The rumbling, however, did not end. It was a low snore at times, then a gasp of noise that echoed down the tunnels. Youko could see that Kuronue had started shaking. Taking pity on him, Youko motioned him to stand closer so they could speak.

"Explosives," Youko explained, his voice hardly above a whisper. "They sound close. If we're lucky and quick, we can make it out on the northern end of the base before they reach down there. I don't think they'll bomb further than the peak, though." He _hoped_ they wouldn't.

Kuronue didn't answer; his body language was enough. Youko beckoned him to follow, choosing a slightly faster pace through the tunnels. If they were bombing the mountain and not just burning the trees... They probably knew he and Kuronue had escaped by now. He was sure that he wouldn't be the only one who lived on the mountain to know of the caves and tunnels. And, knowing it was futile, he hoped that no one would think to try and follow them.

A sharp turn in the tunnel proved almost fatal. Youko backed up hurriedly, clamping a hand over Kuronue's mouth for silence. He'd seen, at the end of the turn, a dim, flickering light. He couldn't smell fire, at least not over the dank of the caves and the acrid stench of the explosives that echoed above their heads. But, there was a fire down there, and if he listened hard between blasts, it was being tended.

He motioned for Kuronue to stay, handed over his pack, and slunk silently down the tunnel towards the fire. The bombs thundered overhead. He could feel the forest dying.

_Focus._

Down there, not more than fifteen meters away, two figures huddled around an ill-concieved fire burning in the pit of a few fallen stones. The fire was smokeless, but hot. He could feel it warming his skin even from this far away.

One of the figures spoke.

"S' which one'r we s'posed to kill?"

"Neither, if we can help it," grumbled its companion. "They want 'em for something. Can't do it if the fox is dead, worthless if the little prince dies."

A sound of discontent. Someone stirred the fire.

"Wha they wan' th' fox for?"

"He's got something they need." A rustling noise, like a shrug. "Some thing he stole."

Youko edged closer, bringing his hand to the nape of his neck. Rose seeds clung to his hair there, ready for him to pull them into deadly life. Then he froze. Kuronue was right next to him, melting into the shadows so well he hadn't even been able to detect the Tengu's presence until they were less than a few inches away. In Kuronue's hand was a dagger, curved and wicked and sharp enough to cut the air in half. A brief glance passed between them.

'You kill,' Youko mouthed, motioning to the speaker with the strange slur. The other one he would bind for interrogation.

Kuronue nodded, and in a blur of dark on dark, he was gone. A breath later, and one figure slumped over. The other rose clumsily, and fell back to the earth again, bound by thorny vines neck to foot. The fire glittered in the horrified gaze of the remaining bandit, and the smell of urine and terror suddenly made the cavern seem like a very small room.

Youko spared a moment to watch Kuronue move away from the fresh corpse, carefully cleaning the dagger as he leaned nonchalantly against the cave wall. Youko was very impressed. A second ago, the Tengu had been shaking, terrified. Now, all competent business. Youko felt something akin to fondness swell up inside of him, but he pushed it aside for now.

He loomed over their captive, glowering down into horrified eyes. A human, how disgustingly petty. That Sojobo was employing humans to try and stop them just served to make him angrier.

"I am going to kill you," Youko said, punctuating this with a sudden growth of thorns. The captive gave a cry of pain that was a little too shrill for Youko's tastes, and whimpered pitifully. "How you die is your decision. You can give me all the information you have, and go quickly into the next life, or I will leave you here to be a living flower bed for the next century or so. If you are entertaining the idea of someone finding and rescuing you, stop now." He ignored the stench and crouched down, bringing his face close to the horrified bandit. "No one will. When I bind a man, he _stays_ bound. Understand?"

The bandit nodded. Sweat was pouring down his face, and the smell of blood began to rise to Youko's nose. He smiled. "I will give you a moment to consider your options. Kuronue?"

Kuronue glanced up from his cleaning, his eyes cold with business. Youko smirked approvingly.

"I would like you to count to three, to give this man time to think." Kuronue returned the smirk and twirled the knife in the air.

"One," Kuronue drawled. The bandit was starting to shake. Youko looked down at him boredly.

"Two," the smell of piss was thicker now, and the bandit looked like he was about to retch.

"Thr-"

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you! The lord, he paid us in advance! We've been setting up in here for weeks, bandits from the south all along the caves! He, he, he..." the man started to cry, shuddering like a small child, snot and tears streaming down his face. "He promised horses and gold and free reign of the valley for ten years. Ten years! I just wanted the gold, it wasn't personal, I just wanted the gold! I JUST WANT-"

The last echoes of the bandit's cry filtered down the tunnels a moment, and then died as well. The thorns withdrew, slipping back into vine, vine to sprout, sprout to seed. Youko sneezed, and then stood. Kuronue had sheathed the knife and disappeard back down the way they came, returning a moment later with their packs. Youko took his gratefully, and tried without success to think of something to say.

"All down the caves," Kuronue murmured. From this close, Youko could see that his face had grown quite pale, and that the bravery was just on the surface. Solid, but not complete. Somehow, that made him feel more confident about Kuronue's abilities.

"We'll be able to avoid some of them, the rest we'll have to kill." He paused, noticing how ill Kuronue looked at that. "Are you all right with that?"

Kuronue waved a hand. "I am, I just wish we were out of here _now._" He was shivering again, Youko noticed, and his wings were mantling over his shoulders, like he wanted to take flight immediately.

"Soon," Youko promised, surprised at the soothing tone his voice took. He surprised hismelf even more seconds later as he reached out to touch Kuronue's arm. Kuronue didn't flinch, but seemed to calm.

"Soon," Kuronue repeated softly. Youko nodded, then gently turned the Tengu until he was facing the tunnel they needed to leave. "Once we're out safe, I want you to fly ahead of me. Southwest, as fast as you can."

"Won't you-"

"I'm fast enough; I'll be able to follow you. Fly for an hour, and you should see a waterfall valley. Wait for me there. Understand?"

Kuronue nodded mutely. Youko turned, stamped out the fire, and then proceeded down the tunnel, Kuronue at his side. Overhead, the bombing had stopped, and the storm sounds of fire shivered down through the rock of the mountain. Youko shuddered, and quickened his pace.

Soon.

* * *

Chaotic scenes are not my strong point, alas. Thanks to Hcolleen and osoimaru, happy belated birthday to darling Blueutopiah 3  
TBC  
10/21/09


	13. Luck

Thirteen

Luck

--

"-_there soon_."

"What?" Kuronue cupped a wing to block the wind, straining to hear Kazuma's voice. He sat next to Shizuru in the back of the vehicle - a "truck," he reminded himself - currently speeding along gray mountain paths to some indeterminate point. The rest of their little group was inside the cab, with Kazuma at the helm. He was shouting now, and Kuronue could barely hear him over the wind and the motor.

"_I said,"_ Kazuma shouted, "_we'll be there soon."_ Kuronue nodded, and relayed this to Shizuru, who gestured dismissively and curled back up in her jacket.

The ride had taken a little over two hours so far, through the dark city and into the countryside. The city - Shizuru had confirmed that it was Roppongi during the ride, as well as other parts of cities he vaguely remembered that had been all mashed together by human sprawl - had been entirely empty, not counting a handful of stray animals wandering the deserted streets, for miles. Then there were signs of small life, a few humans scrambling from building to building, clustered in groups, huddling around doorways or cars, always staring back towards Roppongi, the darkness, and the fires that still flickered between buildings and houses. In these places the electric lights still buzzed with life, pouring their anemic glow onto the streets.

Now they were climbing up into the mountains, the great blinking sprawl of the city laid out behind them. A circle of near-pitch darkness reached many miles until the still-electrified parts of the city were visible, pockmarked by fires that still no one had sought to put out. How long had those places been burning? Here, at least, there was nothing but the ruddy glow of the truck's taillights. In this inky darkness, underneath the black clouds that still crackled with the remains of familiar youki, not even the cold light of the stars broke through.

Most of the trip had been made in silence. So far, Hiei had woken up once, only to be lulled back to sleep by Yukina. Shuuichi had drifted off not much longer, his cat wrapped up in a beat up old jacket that had been fished from under a seat and firmly ensconced on his lap. Yukina and Hiei took up most of the back seat, with the lady keeping silent vigil over her patients. Shizuru shared the truck bed with Kuronue, and Kazuma captained the vehicle along the inky mountain roads to their destination. Now counted the fifteenth time Shizuru had reached for the little white pack in her pocket, pulled out the thin thing that smelled vaguely of tobacco, glared at it, and put it back.

It was the smell of tobacco that made this all seem more... real. Not the minor pains of the cuts and bruises he'd acquired since his release, not the smell of the air or the feel of earth under his feet, not even when he was flying had this felt like more than a particularly vivid dream. But the tobacco... he hadn't ever dreamed that smell. He'd wanted to, surely. If he could be said to have a vice outside of his occupation, it would have been smoking. Youko had teased him about it endlessly, his propensity to always have a pipe filled for after a heist or a particularly trying day. A full pipe, in his opinion, was the greatest luxury their amassed riches could afford.

A moment later, Shizuru repeated the ritual with the little white pack, and he had to ask.

"What are those?"

She stared at him blankly, stared at the pack, and back at him. He tried a rueful smile. "I've been in a hole for most of the last century," he explained, "and in the Makai before that. What are they?"

"Cigarettes," she said, accepting his explanation with one of those 'oh, he must just be stupid' looks he remembered people giving him a lot when he had been young. She tapped one out of the pack and handed it over. He sniffed it carefully, and smiled. There were other, unfamiliar things mixed in, but that was definitely tobacco.

"Useless for now," Shizuru went on, scowling. "No lighter, and one wouldn't work in this wind anywa-" she stopped, and stared. He'd cupped one hand down the open end of the 'cigarette' and focused a tiny spark of his youki. Like all Tengu, he could call lightning, but he'd only ever managed little sparks. That, at least, was enough to light the little stick. He smiled when the smoke curled up from the tip, sliding through his fingers to be scattered by the wind.

Shizuru watched with a look of undisguised greed in her eyes and wordlessly handed him another, which he lit and passed back. She held the cigarette cupped protectively with her hand, and then took a long drag, holding in the smoke for a long stretch of seconds. When she exhaled, Kuronue almost laughed at her. She looked like she'd just had the best sex of her life.

"_God_ I needed that," she sighed, taking another short drag. "Thanks."

Still grinning, Kuronue followed suit. Good or bad, there was no burn like it in the world. The way it sank down into his lungs and pooled there like dragon fire… oh, he'd missed it. A pleasant buzzing filled his head and he exhaled, the river of smoke trailing after the truck and fading into the darkness. Suddenly, he couldn't blame Shizuru for her ecstasy. He had the same stupid expression on his face.

Shizuru laughed. "Been a while, huh?" She jabbed the cherry of her cigarette at him for emphasis. "I bet you smoked like a chimney before."

He held up his hands and grinned. "Guilty. I'd forgotten how good it felt. Tastes awful, though. What do you humans put into these?" He could do with some water, or sake if he could get it. The lingering taste on the back of his tongue was far from the pleasant aftertaste he remembered.

"All kinds of crap," she said, taking another long, relieved drag. The smoke rose to mix into the lightening sky. Kuronue turned his gaze to the east, where the first touches of real sunlight were staining the clouds. The rest of the day and night before had gone by so fast, and now the dawn seemed far too long in coming. It was as if time slowed once they left the city. Somehow, the thought was comforting. He and Shizuru sat in silence, watching the sun crawl its way above the horizon, each lighting a new cigarette with the smoldering embers of its predecessor.

The sun lifted itself, a milky, blind eye filtering its weak light through the dense clouds. Kuronue flicked the fifth wasted cigarette away, not bothering to light another. Shizuru did no such thing, dragging a fresh one from the rapidly emptying pack. Kuronue realized suddenly that it was the first sunrise he had seen since... for... he couldn't even remember how many years had passed. A sunrise, being shared with a ragtag group of humans and demons who had, against all the laws that nature and common sense provided, accepted him completely into their little troupe without a word to the contrary.

That wasn't even the heaviest weight on his mind right now. The cigarettes had been a nice distraction, for a time, but his thoughts once again drifted back over the last few hours, replaying the siege on Shuuichi's apartment over and over. Reviewing every moment in the most scrutinizing of details, he'd learned much more about the human than he'd expected to.

What he'd learned brought little comfort. From what he could deduct, Shuuichi had been trained by Youko. Initially, Kuronue had thought Shuuichi's sudden unnerving competence a kind of possession, not entirely under the human's control. But that held no water over what Kuronue had seen and felt. There was no surge of youki, no physical change to the human, nothing indicating possession other than the sudden, jarring shift from fearful to vengeful. It was the cat, obviously, that had triggered Shuuichi's sudden action. Of course, any person (especially, he recalled, humans) presented with an important thing of theirs about to be destroyed would do anything in their power to stop the destruction. Shuuichi had performed admirably.

Hell, if Kuronue had been given time, he would have _applauded._ It was easy to see that Shuuichi's fighting style mimicked Youko's, almost to the letter. Shuuichi's form was excellent, his aim and timing superb. Even the use of the broken bits of door had been an inspired yet singularly fox-like touch: Kuronue had learned that foxes _loved_ using weapons of opportunity. However long Shuuichi had been under Youko's tutelage, it had been enough to pound more than the basics of combat strategy into that skinny frame. For a human to learn Youko's fighting style, well… it was fucking impressive.

Kazuma, too, had shown at least a basic knowledge of Youko's patent brand of fighting. While the tall man's form left a lot to be desired (though Kuronue would cut him a little slack, close quarters with ranged weapons kind of limited the man's ability) his aim had been spot on, and his strategy hadn't failed.

Kuronue wondered if any of the others had been tutored by his old partner.

He also wondered _why. _Youko had no interest in humans, at least not beyond a few carnal relations and some very rare working relationships. Humans served little purpose in the everyday workings of Makai and the demons who lived there, and that's the way everyone liked it.

Oh, he supposed Youko could have changed some since their disastrous last heist, but to the extent of taking _humans_ under his wing? Surely not. No, that was preposterous. Youko would _never_ tutor humans. Not in his ways.

But, all of the evidence, if only that which Kuronue had seen and sensed, pointed to that one conclusion.

Perhaps Youko and Shuuichi were related? _No._ Stupid thought. Youko never mated with females unless he knew there would be no progeny. He had never been interested in children. Really, he seemed to have a pathological fear of parenthood that, to Kuronue, was absurdly funny. That, and making a child with a human woman would require more time and effort than Youko would probably ever want to expend. So, the only logical explanation with the evidence presented was... a fluke. Some stupid divine intervention. Maybe Youko had gone mad. No, no, that didn't seem right at all. Damn.

He sighed, leaning over the side of the truck to peer through the morning gloom up into the mountains. For a second, he could see the tiled roof of a temple flashing between the trees that were still nearly-solid black in the morning light. It didn't seem too far, just a few more miles. If he wanted to, he could jump out and fly up there to meet them.

Something in the back of his mind, some instinctual sense of self-preservation, told him that would be a Very Bad Idea. He turned back to his corner of the truck bed, ignoring a quizzical look from Shizuru and focusing again on the sunrise. There was another moment of fluid silence and then Shizuru spoke up again.

"So, what's your story?"

He blinked at her.

"Don't you know?" He asked, slightly perplexed. She shrugged.

"Only broad, little things. I was out of town when the other you showed up."

"The other..." his brow furrowed and he thought furiously. Other him? _What_ other him? "What do you mean?"

"Some fellow calling himself by your name went on with one of the Netherworld Gods. Nearly killed him," she jerked her thumb in Shuuichi's direction, "but got it in the ass before the whole situation was over."

Kuronue glanced at the sleeping human. Why would an impostor of himself go after a human he didn't even know? Damn, more questions, and no answers in sight. None that he liked, anyway.

"And, what do you know of him what took my form?"

"Nothing other than he's dead. What Kurama told us - or what he told Kazuma and Kazuma told me - was that you two were partners at some point, but then you died during a heist. Poor bastard never really got over it, from what I can tell." She squinted at him. "Though you look a lot less dead, or a lot less full of holes than what he described. I'm beginning to think we got an edited version of the truth." 

"That wouldn't surprise me," Kuronue murmured, his mind racing as she spoke. "Go on."

"Well," Shizuru lit another cigarette, taking a drag while she gathered her thoughts. "I know that the other you had some kind of telepathy or hypnotic power, kept on going on about Kurama betraying you and so on. Kurama got more than a little freaked out over that, apparently he believed it, and kind of ran in half-ready to die so he could pay for being a bad boyfriend." At the last part she gave Kuronue a pointed glance. He didn't deny the deduction. She went on.

"Well, whatever it was that really happened, Kurama killed him but good, and went on to help Urameshi and Co. kill the big baddie. Afterwards, none of us heard from him for a few months… not until right before the Sensui incident, but that's a much longer story."

Kuronue stared.

"They _killed_ Yakumo?"

"Ahuh. Took a couple tries, but they managed in the end. Urameshi broke right through that power crystal whatever-it-was and that's the last of it. Oh," she waved her hand vaguely at the cab of the truck, "It took all four of them to wear the bastard down enough that Urameshi could get in that last shot, though. They're a pretty good team."

Kuronue nodded dumbly, imagining the sheer amount of power it would take to bring down a Meikai God. Most S-class demons didn't even have that kind of power.

"This Urameshi, is he some kind of a demon?" Had to be. No human could pull that off, even with backup.

Shizuru grinned at him. "He is _now._ Oh, we're here."

The truck clattered to a halt at the base of a stairway guarded by two ancient trees. Fresh wards circled each trunk, though they were of the benign, "don't come up here unless you're a friend or a really cocky bastard" warning type. He could deal with those kinds of wards. Further up, however, he could just barely feel the sting of much stronger wards. Those were warnings with teeth. Best that he hadn't flown in, after all.

Slowly they shuffled out of the truck and started the climb, Yukina supporting Hiei, Kazuma with an arm around Shuuichi, who still held his wrapped-up cat protectively against his chest, Shizuru and Kuronue bringing up the rear. While they ascended, Shizuru filled Kuronue in on Genkai, the temple (with more bits about the mysterious Urameshi) and various things that had happened since he had been living in a hole. The information he filed carefully away as he examined their surroundings, taking in the vast trees, the meticulous care with which the stone steps had been preserved (emigrants from Makai who were proven troublemakers were often sent here on 'community service,' which was overseen by Urameshi) and the eerie glow of the sky above them.

While there was no longer any feeling of real animosity from the air, Kuronue could still feel the lingering threat of youki and the less immediate threat of rain. The clouds were the drizzly nimbostratus type, nothing terribly special. The danger, for now, had passed.

Once they reached the temple, watches were decided. Kuronue to himself questioned if a watch would be any good considering that they were a bunch of humans and two underpowered demons. Without any input from him, it was decided that Shuuichi and Shizuru would watch first, while Yukina tended to Hiei (and got some sleep) and Kazuma offered to help Kuronue find the bath and some fresh clothes.

Kuronue had taken the offer of a bath before the words were fully out of Kazuma's mouth. He hadn't had a real bath in decades, and wasn't about to pass up on that luxury when there was a free moment to be had. If there was going to be an attack on the place, it could wait until he'd scrubbed himself raw. There was scattered laughter, and they all turned away to their tasks.

The bath must have been something designed in heaven, Kuronue thought. Once Kazuma had left him in the washroom, he'd gotten busy. His wings, which would have been a problem otherwise, he sent away, expending Youki which he probably should have been hoarding to have the great feathered monstrosities sink into his skin. Later, when he'd amassed more energy, he'd take bird shape and give them a proper cleaning then. For now, it would be too much of a hassle to clean each feather, and then there was the risk of them drying out, the irritation of having to shift around them in the bath, and trying to navigate clothing around them. Better to lose a shirt later then spend long hours picking out old feathers now.

Then, he took care of his hair, which over the decades had become so filthy that the water only truly ran clear after the sixth rinse. The length was a problem, too. He thought a moment about cutting it right away, but stubborn pride held him back. His hair proved that he'd lived through a long hell; it wouldn't be so easy to give up. He'd just have to get very good at braiding.

After his hair, he'd scrubbed down with each one of the strange-smelling soaps that Kazuma had pointed out. This place was stocked to take care of up to a hundred residents, so there was no shortage of things to try. An hour or so of soap and water had him smelling like a cross between a vegetable stand, a lumberyard, and a flower shop, which suited him just fine. It was much better than the stench of dust, blood, and animal he'd been living with for so long. Amazing no one had mentioned the smell to him until they'd arrived at the temple. He supposed it was either politeness or distraction. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have shut up about the stink until someone punched him in the nose.

And then, when all that was done, the bath. Oh, _Gods_.

He'd taken baths in hot springs, mountain pools, rivers, flophouses and inns all over Makai and Ningenkai during the course of his life. For the time he'd spent in his prison, the only kind of water available was the stuff that trickled in during the wet season. But this was… phenomenal. He'd heard of bath houses that had special herbs added to the water, or minerals, or whatever. Humans, apparently, lived for the stuff. He'd never really cared as long as he got clean. But sinking into the water that smelled like cedar and juniper was, well… heavenly. He could soak for hours, and given half the chance, he'd do just that. Eventually someone would check to see if he'd drowned, he was sure, but for now he was happy enough to lounge in water that never seemed to cool and move the steam around with his hands, relaxing for the first time in what seemed like a thousand years.

Kuronue had another blissful hour before Kazuma rapped politely on the outer door to the washroom. He sighed, but left the tub, joyful at least in the prospect of clean clothing. He wouldn't mind if he never saw the tattered things he'd been wearing ever again. Maybe he could burn the stuff. At the very least someone would probably toss it all; none of it was salvageable for washing, he was sure.

He wrapped himself in a towel (and when had they gotten so… fluffy? Was everything so luxurious in the human world these days?) wrung out most of his hair, and used another towel to get the rest of the dampness out. He stepped out of the bath room into the changing room, where Kazuma was grinning at him, a pile of clothes in one arm.

"You look about five hundred years younger," the human remarked, handing the pile over. Kuronue looked through the offered stuff, marveling at the fabric and texture, too distracted by all the new _stuff_ to comment that, in fact, he wasn't much older than five hundred to begin with. But that was beyond the point.

Kazuma explained the clothing to him, still with that big, goofy, personable grin, and after a few false starts (the underwear had been a trial, and learning the zipper on the pants had been a near disaster) Kuronue found himself… clothed. Feeling… alive. Civilized, even. He'd been living a rung above animals for so long that the feeling of clean skin and clothing was like sudden, instant evolution. He hadn't said a word about it, but Kazuma seemed to read it in his look, and laughed. The final touch was a pair of house shoes, which he slipped on outside the bathroom, and a handful of hair ties that Kazuma had found in a back closet.

Kazuma led him on a tour of the temple as he messed with his hair, pointing out the various game rooms with the strange black boxes like the ones he'd seen in Shuuichi's apartment, the huge kitchen (where someone had put on rice and had vegetables simmering for stock, and gods above if that didn't make Kuronue's mouth water painfully) the training and sleeping rooms, armory, and other rooms stored with antiques and curiosities of varying worth. To an antique dealer, the place would have been a veritable Shangri-La. To Kuronue, with the exception of the ultra-modern game rooms and kitchen, it felt like home. The temple, unlike the stark and sparse box Shuuichi lived him, reminded him of the years he'd left behind.

It was comforting. He felt – and there was a dark and cold part of his mind that told him it was a bad idea – safe. He'd settle down in a place like this in a heartbeat given half a chance, weird boxes, scary kitchen, and all.

He realized belatedly that Kazuma had been talking the entire time, and managed to grab on to the last bit.

"-all going to have lunch or something in an half an hour or so, and then maybe switch watch shifts or something. Shuuichi's been messing with his phone to see if he can't get service up here, since we're out of the city it shouldn't be too hard. When he does, we'll see about getting Urameshi and some more of our contacts up here to see about a game plan. Don't know about you, but I'm about one thousand percent sure that yesterday wasn't an isolated event."

Kuronue sighed, and dropped smartly back into reality. "I'll take on the next watch with whoever is ready. I can even fly patrol around the area." Without having to ruin his nice new threads, either. The shirt problem that had niggled at the back of his mind earlier had been solved immediately: Humans put less fabric in their clothes these days than they had in their underwear a few decades ago. He was wearing _two_ shirts, one with buttons up the front, and another underneath that was something Kazuma had laughingly called a 'wifebeater,' mostly a tube of fabric with strappy sleeves. His wings would be no problem in just that. It was as good as his old vest.

Kazuma shrugged. "If you want to, go ahead. Really, the watches are just so everyone has something to do. Hiei's laid up, so it'll probably be you and me."

Kuronue nodded. Something told him that Kazuma would prefer not having to deal with Hiei full stop. Whatever was going on there… well, he didn't want to know, and didn't really care. Much.

"Speaking of them," Kazuma turned to face down a hallway they hadn't yet explored, "I'm going to go see if Yukina needs anything else to keep him in line. Down here is the infirmary, you can come with if you want, but it gets kind of cramped." The tone suggested that it would be a good idea not to, so Kuronue shook his head.

"I'm going to go find Shuuichi. I have a few things I want to ask him." Specifically about Kurama, though something told him that straight answers were not in the stars for him today. Kazuma nodded, but his smile seemed to fade just a little bit, and an edge of serious, almost unsettling intensity flickered in his gaze. Kuronue almost took a step back, unused to dealing with such sudden shifts in atmosphere. A few decades ago, handling that little _look_ would be nothing. But now, after years of solitude, the subtle threat in Kazuma's eyes was enough to inspire him to keep out of trouble.

Kuronue remembered the bruises on Shuuichi's neck, and knew why.

"He's sitting out front," Kazuma supplied, his smile brightening again. "One of us will come get you when the soup's on." And with that, Kazuma turned down the hallway, leaving Kuronue in the early-day dim of the temple.

--

The clouds still hadn't broken. The sky, at least, had quieted, and Kurama guessed that the… that _his_ youki had finally dissipated, exhausted from its ill-use. Now the dull overcast was entirely natural, if with a touch of foreboding.

He'd been sitting on the front stairway, fiddling with his phone. He'd managed to get a signal, and almost made a call, but the reception out here was dead, or nearly so. He'd have to get up high to reach anyone, and wasn't exactly in the mood to do any climbing. He had, at least, gotten off a few text messages; one to his mother, assuring her he was fine, and a second to Yuusuke telling him to get his ass to the temple ASAP. So now he just sat, chin resting on his hands, staring across the courtyard to the gate leading down the mountain.

After the first hour, he'd given up on trying to plan around the current situation. He'd resigned himself to relative powerlessness, and as such just felt… numb. Bored. Tired. He was literally useless to everyone right now, until he found some way to track Tadashi and his kitsune-bi. Kazuma had tried to be helpful, coming back after leading Kuronue into the temple and giving him the 'we'll do everything we can, don't worry' speech. And Kurama believed some of it, sure. He wasn't the type of person to dive into complete hopelessness immediately. He _could_, if he really wanted to, but he wouldn't.

He trusted his friends to help. Even if a dark, cold part of him didn't want them to.

_You managed to get along fine by yourself for centuries, and now you're using humans and halfbreeds as crutches,_ that part said, bubbling up through the murky waters of suppression. _Complacent, weak, and now you've let your guard down so far that you've crippled yourself. Fool._

All that and more over the last few hours, and Kurama was growing tired of it. He had to do something, soon, or he'd drive himself insane running around in circles inside his own mind. But for now, all he could do was sit. And wait.

He heard the creaking of footsteps behind him and turned.

_Ah…_

Kuronue.

Emerging from the shadows, dressed simply and freshly washed, he could have been walking right out of a trove of dreams and fantasies Kurama had entertained over the last few decades. Even the weight that years of imprisonment had put on Kuronue's shoulders seemed to have lifted; the only indicator to his age being his long, inky hair. Kurama realized he was staring openly, watching every motion hungrily as Kuronue fiddled with the last of a few ties to put his long veil of hair into something he wouldn't trip over every moment.

Kurama felt his throat tighten in a way wholly unrelated to the abuse it had received earlier, and dragged his eyes away just as Kuronue focused on him. Once again, a chasm of silence opened between them.

The floorboards creaked again, and then Kuronue was sitting next to him. Kurama forced his hands not to clench into nervous fists.

"I need to ask you some questions," Kuronue started, his voice mellow. That was new; patience and calm had never really been part of Kuronue's repertoire. He was the kind of man who jumped on an issue and started hitting it until it made sense or moved to his satisfaction. Gods, how much else had he changed?

"Go for it," Kurama replied, wincing inwardly at how small and defeated his voice sounded.

"How are you related to Youko? I have thoughts, but I need to hear them from you."

_Damn! Damn damn damn damn you, you couldn't wait for me to think up a good lie, could you?_

"He saved me, when I was-" _In utero_ "very young," He murmured, keeping his gaze locked with a stone a few yards away. As long as he didn't look at Kuronue, as long as the partial lie didn't show in his eyes… "He's been tutoring me since."

"Any ideas as to why?" Kuronue pressed, and Kurama could feel the heat and weight of his gaze like the sun. And…

Well, there really was no answer to that one, was there? The body of Shuuichi Minamino had been convenient, was all. Something nearly dead but still alive enough to possess, with just the barest amount of reiki available to any human to sustain it. He hadn't thought before jumping right in and settling himself comfortably into the body and lifestyle of the human.

"Couldn't say," he said finally, going for as much truth as he could. "I suppose his reasons are his own. It was never discussed."

"You didn't ask?"

"Didn't care to know. I'm alive, is all that really counts."

"Doesn't it just," Kuronue murmured, and then was silent. Kurama sat waiting, knowing that Kuronue was filing through more questions, ranking them in order of importance, biding his time.

_He's waiting to see if I'll get nervous and start babbling,_ Kurama realized, a swell of panic rising in his heart. Sure, Kuronue had always lacked a level of finesse when he was younger, especially on a one-on-one basis, but when he really wanted to be, Kuronue was just as devious, cunning, and cutthroat as Kurama had ever managed.

"Do you have any clue as to where he's gone?" Kuronue asked finally, his tone only gently querying. He wasn't going to push, yet.

"No." And that _was_ a flat-out lie. Kurama knew where he was, and knew for the most part where the part of him that was 'Youko' lay, even if he couldn't pinpoint exactly where. "I can only… guess," he amended grudgingly.

Kuronue didn't press this time, only waited quietly. Kurama tried not to shiver; sitting so close, he could even feel Kuronue breathe. The air here suddenly felt all the more stifling. Steeling himself, Kurama pushed on.

"My… theory is that Youko is currently being held by your brother." He shifted uncomfortably, waiting for the questions to come. They didn't. He considered embellishing, but decided against it. He didn't want to catch himself up in a lie too elaborate to remember.

Next to him, Kuronue sighed and slouched against the stairs. "I'm not going to get much out of you, am I," he said, a statement more than a question. Kurama didn't answer, and busied himself by studying the patterns on the wood down between his own feet. As long as he didn't look at Kuronue too much, or move any closer, he could convince himself that he wasn't hanging on every word, every breath, capturing each into little crystal memories he could fall back on in the inevitability of everything going to hell.

He realized he was waxing poetic in his own head and stopped himself. He knew Kuronue was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, or a confirmation.

"I don't know," he murmured finally, miserably. "There's not much I can tell you."

"Because you don't know, or you don't trust me?" Still Kuronue's voice was infuriatingly patient.

Kurama bristled; he hated being on the receiving end of such… patronizing calm. "Both," he replied coldly, keeping his gaze set on his feet, his breathing calm. It was very difficult to stay something approaching neutral, and Kuronue's unshakable patience was starting to get on his nerves.

He would have said more. He would have, given just another second to think, found something to say that would put Kuronue off of any more questions, shut him up, push him away and away and make him just _go_ somewhere so Kurama could think, just a little while longer. But he didn't _have_ another second.

He saw Kuronue's hand pass through his vision, felt the touch on his chin, thought _this would be a good time to start running_ and allowed his face to be turned, to look into Kuronue's eyes and let the half-truths lay bare.

Soft, grey eyes. And that's where all the years went, all the weight of pain and solitude. Kurama stared into them, backing against a flood of sad, endless, hopeful memories, seeing in Kuronue's gaze an intensity that he didn't remember; the real depths of calm. He didn't recognize those eyes, not really. His heart started to plummet.

"I need you to trust me," Kuronue said, and the fall suddenly didn't seem so fast or terrifying. "Please."

Maybe a reply wouldn't have been the best thing in the world, maybe silence _was_ better than opening up and telling Kuronue everything and begging forgiveness, but that didn't keep a terrible boiling rage from filling Kurama when suddenly they were interrupted by a familiar, irritating wolf whistle, followed by a laugh.

"Damn, you work fast," Yuusuke said, crossing the courtyard towards them. "You kids these days don't have any decency. Here we are, in a state of emergency no less, and I catch you two makin' eyes at each other." He stood in front of them, hands on his hips and grinning like a fool. Kurama realized with growing horror that both he and Kuronue had frozen at the interruption and not moved an inch. He gathered his composure and gently pushed Kuronue's hand away. Every instinct in his mind screamed for him not to do that. He was rather proud of his composure.

"Yuusuke," Kurama forced a smile, "charming as usual. Kuronue, this is Urameshi Yuusuke. You've been hearing about him, I think."

Kuronue stood, bowing his head to Yuusuke, who bowed back. The polite display didn't fool Kurama a bit. He couldn't feel the energy in the air the way he normally was able to, but he knew, just by virtue of knowing them, that Kuronue and Yuusuke were sizing each other up, stirring the youki around themselves in a testing, protective barrier.

But, Kuronue was smiling, returning Yuusuke's grin with something more than politeness. Kurama watched, fascinated, as Kuronue reached out, the gesture matched by Yuusuke, and they clasped hands.

"Good to meet the real you," Yuusuke said.

"Good to be met," was Kuronue's reply.

Yuusuke's grin got even wider then, and he closed the gap between them, clapping one hand on Kuronue's shoulder and the other around Kurama's arm. "Come one, kids, Botan'll be here in a bit and we've got a lot of shit to talk about."

--

Kuronue didn't ask who Botan was. He didn't have the time, seeing as Urameshi was talking a mile a minute about such and such a thing that Kuronue couldn't quite understand. The Japanese language seemed to have been castrated and put through a meat grinder since he'd been put away, and what was flowing out of Urameshi's mouth was the unintelligible leftovers. Shuuichi seemed to be following along, though. He'd ask for a translation later.

Yuusuke kept right on talking as they sat at the table, pausing whatever explanation he was giving to Shuuichi to greet the rest of the group. Shizuru and Hiei were already seated, Kazuma and Yukina were filling bowls with rice, broth, vegetables and meat. Kuronue felt slightly embarrassed once he noticed he was getting the largest share out of everyone, but a look from Yukina said that thanks were unnecessary and would be dismissed. He managed enough gratitude (he hoped) with a look, and ate quietly, listening for words from the animated Urameshi that he could understand and watching the rest of the group hang on his every word, _sans_ Hiei, whose perpetual look of boredom had been accessorized with one of extreme irritation.

What he could understand from Urameshi he didn't like. Roppongi and the surrounding boroughs in the Tokyo Metroplex (those words he remembered being mentioned vaguely on Shuuichi's 'radio') were out of power completely, and people had gone missing. That was bad enough, but…

Temples. Six major temples and countless minor family shrines, all of them burning or burned to the ground. The area within the boundaries that the temples and shrines set was the area of incident, where Shuuichi lived, where humans were suddenly disappearing. Where flocks of crows blackened the lines and tops of buildings.

"The big temples I can name," Urameshi was saying around mouthfuls. "Hanazono Jinja, Meiji Jingu, Togo, Zojoji-" there was a gasp of dismay at this one, which Urameshi waved off. "Zojoji's mostly okay, a fire brigade got there early enough to keep most of the place from going up in smoke. Anyway, the rest are Tsukiji Honganji, which is also doing all right, seeing as it's a pretty major landmark, and Yasukuni, which has lost the main gate and part of the main building since last report." He finished off his food while grim looks settled on the faces around him, seemingly unconcerned.

The next interruption was a Shinigami. Kuronue watched her bustle in, throwing tired hellos at everyone gathered around the table, and seating herself between him and Shuuichi with a bit more drama than necessary. "Gods," she exclaimed, taking a bowl that Yukina offered, "I never want to have to shuffle that many old ghosts again. Do you _know_ what happens when that many temples go down at once? It was all I could do to get here now; Hinageshi and Ayame are _still_ out there. Hi, I'm Botan." This last was directed at Kuronue, who nodded at her politely. He would have said hello, but his mouth was full.

"This isn't the same as Yakumo, is it? With the Reiki sites?" Kazuma asked, leaning over the table. Kuronue noticed a dark look pass over the faces of the others, but said nothing and kept eating. After all, this was his first meal in a long time… he wasn't about to forget it, no matter how dire the situation seemed.

Botan waved the assumption away. "Not nearly. As far as we can tell, this is simply a case of a lot of youki being directed with the specific purpose of destruction. No power's coming from the temples, just ghosts. And…" She looked uncomfortable, glancing around the table. "Well, the only similarity is that the area affected is almost completely devoid of people, only instead of just disappearing…"

"They've been killed," Shizuru finished, lighting a cigarette from the ashes of its predecessor and smoking it like she hated it.

"You saw."

Nods from Yukina, Shizuru, and a snort from Hiei. Kuronue thought about adding his own input, the blurred images of dead humans he'd seen during his frantic flight to Shuuichi's window, but thought better of it.

"Well, at the very least, not _everyone _is dead," Botan sighed, slumping in her chair. She started counting off points on her fingers. "Some ran, some are hiding, and some just... well, they're gone. No two ways about it. Not dead, not on this plane."

"Makai?" It was the first time Shuuichi had spoken since they had gathered at the table.

"Hmm, probably..." Botan looked thoughtful, cast a glance at Hiei, and grimaced, turning her gaze back to Shuuichi. "Well, unless you-" she stopped, glared at Kuwabara, and started again. "Unless _Yuusuke _can get in contact with someone in Makai, we won't know. None of the Reikai sentries have seen anything, so your guess is as good as ours."

More conversation spun from that, names were mentioned, strategies suggested and brushed away. Kuronue had stopped eating. The food was delicious, sure, and again: First meal in forever, but his mind kept flashing that pause and change. The glare.

They didn't want Shuuichi connected with anything going on in Makai. Why? Would he be? Humans couldn't survive there, not for long. Did it have to do with his connection to Youko? Why he was so closed-lipped about the whole affair?

Kuronue watched the conversation, the people he had fallen in with. Everyone deferred to Yuusuke first, followed closely by Kazuma and Shuuichi. Hiei was a silent partner in all this. They ran the show, Urameshi their ringleader, the other three his (mostly?) faithful companions.

_Those four, _Shizuru had said. But, wasn't Kurama one of the four? _Kurama killed the impostor who almost killed Shuuichi. Those four. _

A team of four, not five. Someone... _Someone should be missing who isn't. Everyone important is here. So..._

He settled his eyes on Shuuichi, watching the human much more closely now than he had before, running over everything he had noticed from waking up until now. Shuuichi's gestures, posture, expressions, everything went under careful scrutiny, carefully matched to what he remembered about Youko.

Some things... _most_ things fit, like the way he would sit with head bowed and eyes closed, listening. Imagining. Planning. Youko did that, often while planning a heist or the rare attacks they'd been bribed into participating. Wars in Makai depended on demons like Youko, the ones with evil minds for strategy. He could almost see Youko superimposed over Shuuichi in a perfect double, if he thought about it.

Perfect, except for the fact that Shuuichi was undeniably human. But... well, suddenly the impossible didn't seem so. A good actor could consciously copy the mannerisms of a person for a length of time, with maybe a flaw here of there, but the amount of skill it took to emulate centuries... no, over two milleniums worth of personality was impossible. No one was _that_ good an actor.

The only question now was, how? How on earth had Youko managed to get himself dropped into a human body, without a drop of youki? A little reiki, yes, that registered just slightly on Kuronue's radar, but not enough to sustain a demon living inside a human body. He was as sure now as he was before that this was no run of the mill possession. Something like that would have torn such a weak human body to pieces. The amount of energy alone needed to sustain a demon of Youko's level was astronomical. So, not entirely a possession, maybe a full-scale habitation of the body.

But where did the youki go? Where was all the energy? Even the best demons couldn't hide their energy so completely, so what had happened? Youko couldn't possibly have just _become_ a human. That was _definitely_ impossible. Gods, he was starting to confuse himself now, thinking about it in circles.

He would have to act on the assumption that he'd deduced correctly, for now. And he'd have to keep it to himself... 'Shuuichi' definitely wanted him kept in the dark about this (and who could blame him, when the first thing out of his mouth when he'd woken up had essentially been 'I'm going to kill you?') and he was happy, for now, to oblige. He could learn more pretending to be ignorant.

And, if he was lucky, he'd be able to get a little quiet revenge in as well. That betrayal was never far enough from his mind to forgive, after all.

_You bastard,_ he thought, watching Shuuichi-Youko tug a notebook that someone had produced over the course of the conversation near himself. They were outlining the area affected by the dead temples, having a six-way argument over who was going where and doing what, and youko was right there in the middle of it, planning their strategy. Kuronue smiled. _You really thought you could fool me. And you did, for about two days... not bad. _

"Oh, by the way, Kuronue-san? Will you give me your hand?" He hadn't been paying attention to her, but Botan had leaned over, sitting just a little too close for comfort. Unthinking, he offered his right hand, and she smiled, clasping both of her around his wrist. "I'm really sorry about this," she said, and then...

Something cold slipped between her hands and his skin. And then... Blackness.

In the dark, he could hear an angry, protesting shout, and then nothing.

--

Mukuro's bootheels clicked smartly on the floor of her fortress, a not-so-subtle alert for anyone lingering in the hallways to stand up and look busy. Everyone who had worked here for any amount of time knew what _that_ particular pace meant, and strived to look a little more hardworking than they normally did. Mukuro liked the effects that had on her morale; that just by walking somewhere purposefully she could make her troops at least _look_ respectable.

What she didn't like was having to use that step at all. It meant something urgent was happening. It meant something was _wrong._

She'd ordered the fortress moved further into the desert after their new guest had been shuffled away to the infirmary rest hall, adjacent to the hospital itself. Yulla was keeping a careful eye on the fox (both to make sure that he didn't die, and that he didn't cause any trouble) and had an intercom receiver on her person, which was usually something Mukuro couldn't force the woman to wear even under pain of death. Which, unfortunately, really underscored how serious the situation was.

After the initial examination, Yulla had done some Deep Work. Deep Work, which was usually left to Hiei or other trained psychics, was the intrusive observation used on any accidental visitors – humans, most of the time – to find out their name, point of origin, and if they were hostile. What Yulla had gotten out of the fox had been detailed and unsettling.

His name was Setsumaru, he was a six-tail kitsune working directly under Inari. He'd had express orders to contact Kurama Youko, and had been interrupted during the execution of these orders by unknown outsiders. He'd been traced; attacked; disabled; blinded (a hood over his eyes, before the one had been taken) tortured for information; and held for an indeterminate amount of time. Yulla had guessed somewhere around the realm of a month, maybe a little less.

How Setsumaru lost his eye (and this was especially frustrating for Mukuro, since curiosity was really eating her up about now) had been an absolute black spot on the fox's brain. There was no memory of the deed being done, just a before in which he could see clearly out of both eyes, and a hazy after where the blood loss and starvation started to set in with gusto.

That left Mukuro with an emaciated, memory deprived kitsune, in a situation unhappily married with _something_ to do with Youko, who was making the flowers grow in Makai. Oh….kay.

She paused at an intersection before stalking in the direction of her quarters. She'd have to contact Hiei, somehow. When he'd left, his explanation had been brief: something to do with Kurama. Mukuro could guess at what their relationship had been before Yomi's interference, her need, and the general stubborn pigheadedness that both Hiei and Kurama possessed in spades had broken them up into something only a little friendlier than passing acquaintances. She wasn't put off by Hiei's sudden insistence that he go see what was wrong in the human world; sometimes you just had to hold the torch and hope.

After all, that's what she was doing now. Although the proverbial torch was something a bit more solid, more real. The sword at her hip was proof (and oh so sweet a gesture it had been, sweeter than flowers) that he would return eventually. Maybe. Hiei was probably the practical type who only looked at a sword and saw a tool instead of a symbol. He'd probably left it meaning for her to use it in case things got messy, and would pick up another one on the fly.

_I am over thinking things,_ she told herself, slamming open the door to her chambers with maybe a little more force than absolutely necessary. At least there was one good thing about Hiei not being around: he couldn't pry into her thoughts and force her to talk out what she was obsessing over. He didn't even have to _say_ anything when he did that. He just had a look. The one he would have given her if he'd seen her stalking around. The smug bastard. It was amazing she hadn't killed him yet.

Mukuro stood in the middle of her chambers, facing her large bed, and turned a slow one-eighty. The room was, of course, unchanged, but this was her ritual. Turn until back was to bed, observing everything on previously blind side, assure self that all is in fact well, spread arms wide, and _flop._

She did the last part with flair, jumping back into her bed and landing on the cushions with a soft whumph of displaced bedding. She didn't bother taking off her boots; she'd be up again soon. But for now, she could lay down and relax, just for a few minutes.

Unlike Yomi, who had stupid, vain picture windows on each wall of his chambers (she'd been there exactly twice, once during an assassination attempt and once visiting him with paperwork after Shura had accidentally blown out both of his knees) so he could 'see' everything. She didn't like that. It was too open, too noticeable, and too… well, grand. She liked her room that sat deep in the belly of her fortress, where she could hear each mechanical whirr and thud and time her life to it. And if she had a need to see anything, she could summon as many viewscreens as she needed to monitor the whole fortress from every angle right here, in the comfort of her little space.

She rarely _did,_ but she _could._ And that's what really mattered. She was tempted to do so now, in fact, to open a screen viewing the hind chassis of the fortress, to watch the soft green of the scrublands fade into the horizon. The way she, and subsequently most of her crew, had been drawn to that place made her downright nervous, so she resisted the urge, instead folding her arms over her eyes and thinking about the fox in the infirmary.

What to do, what to do. Yulla was a passable psychic at the best of times, and hated doing the Deep Work with a passion, but for now she was the only one available to look into the fox's mind who wouldn't get the nasty backlash that Godly Protection provided. Being a healer, she was immune to the defences all kitsune had against psychic intrusion. Hiei was the only one who had ever broken past those barriers, and even then Mukuro guessed it was only because Kurama had let him.

There was no way of getting any more information out of Setsumaru until he woke; until then, all she could do was speculate.

She _hated_ speculation. Mukuro was a woman who lived for action, for the moment. The last thousand years (barring Urameshi's tournament) had been nothing but simple strategy games. She hadn't even been able to get into a good skirmish before Kirin and Shigure had disposed of the enemies. With Hiei around, she had someone capable to spar against - among other things - but she _ached_ for a good war. Maybe, if she was lucky, Setsumaru would bring with him an opportunity for such.

Maybe she'd be able to take out her frustration regarding a specific fox on the species as a whole.

_Yeah, and while I'm dreaming, I want a pony and a pink castle,_ she thought sourly. A moment passed.She reconsidered the thought.

"Maybe just the pony," she decided, pushing herself up again. She sat, feeling bored, lonely, and unloved for a few seconds before standing and striding out of her room. There would be time for moping later, anyway. After all, she'd been saving up on that time for a millennium. Right now, she needed to stop being wishy-washy and contact Hiei, promise or no. Whatever was happening, he was bound to be in the middle of it, and she wanted to be too.

--

Yomi did not turn when he heard the shadows begin to rearrange themselves. He had been waiting patiently for this, knowing that - his task finished - his reward was soon to come.

He had been unwilling at first, not wanting to unbalance the scale of trust and control he'd built around Kurama oh so recently. But visiting his General in the human world had lost its flavor, the lovemaking had been less that than simple physical exercise. Not that he wanted love, of course. What he wanted, had _always_ wanted, was control. Control over Kurama, who had lorded control over him for those few centuries they had worked so closely together.

An enlightened mind would call that revenge. Yomi, who considered himself so far from the light as to be 'endarkened,' called it justice.

Justice, with the sweet taste of desire. After all, the years had been kind to Kurama, and that sweet human body would be so breakable, and yet so perfectly repairable. The things he could do to Kurama without having to work around the dangers of youki or the threat of retaliation (he could tell himself Urameshi was less than nothing where threats were concerned, but telling oneself something did not always equal the truth) made his approximation of a heart pound in anticipatory lust.

He would have his prize, and it would only be oh so little time now until he had it.

He smiled in the direction of the moving shadows. He said, "Welcome."

_I am,_ was the reply, amused. _Very welcome, it seems. And you have been so wonderfully patient._

The shadows moved closer, and he could feel as well as hear them sliding up into form. Humanoid, vaguely, the most defining feature hands that reached out to caress his face.

_My dear Yomi,_ the shadows murmured, tracing the smile he could hardly banish from his face. _This is but a whisper of the power I could give you for your help. You are sure this is all the prize you desire?_

"Quite sure," he said, his smile widening. There was no mistaking the approval coming from his shadow benefactor, how much it enjoyed the game he was going to play with their mutual target.

_Then, by all means,_ the shadow hands pressed over his eyes, and he caught his breath._ I bid you see._

--

12/17/09

TBC


	14. Scales

Fourteen

Scales

* * *

_Water,_ Kuronue thought. Repeating, over and over again, the kanji flashing in front of his eyes. the sweat of exhaustion covered him, blinding him in turn with the sun and the sky.

It had taken far longer to escape the caves than he'd hoped. The pitiful duo of bandits he and Youko had killed had not been the rule, but the exception from their comrades. The rest of the bandit army (and 'army' was oh-so-fitting a word) had given them a run through a dark hell that Kuronue never, ever wanted to revisit. He was covered still with so much blood and ichor (at least what the sweat hadn't washed away) that the weight was beginning to pull at him, dragging him closer to earth than was wise. Now, far from the mountain and still going, the air provided as little comfort as being under the earth had. And he was still being pursued.

The bandits had been a crushing first wave. Youko, reckless and genius, had caused another collapse, this time of at least a dozen tunnels they could have escaped into with some form of ease. The bandits had come in choking groups, spearing and shooting and cursing and dying all around them, until he and Youko had torn them apart, receiving plenty of injury in turn.

And then, they crawled. Deeper into the darkness, following the smallest tunnel open to them, dirt grinding into each cut, mixing with sweat and blood into black mud that made even Youko's pristine silver hair dull and dark. On hands and knees for what seemed like days, shoving through dark, cramped tunnels like moles, then finally they emerged from the mountain through a hole scarcely larger than a rabbit run, under logs and bracken and more gods-bedamned dirt. Crouching in the underbrush, they caught their breaths, eyes on the blanket of fire drifting from the mountain's peak.

The moment of rest was cut far too short. Patrols reached this far down the mountain, too; bandits, demons and Tengu prowling the area so thickly that it was impossible to stay hidden for long. Youko shouted orders at him over the roar of the fire, directions, timing, vague things. Find a takeoff point, take the sacks, fly south until the waterfall valley. No questions, no looking back. Just fly.

Kuronue managed to obey the first and the last. But he couldn't help looking back, hoping that whatever other traps had been laid for there escape were enough for Youko to handle alone. Now, however, he had his own problems.

His pursuers, two Tengu, he recognized. Hatsumi and Seigaku, the Tengu answer to Samurai. He'd grown up knowing them. He knew how strong they were.

He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.

Hatsumi was shouting insults. That was fine and normal; Hatsumi insulted anything that could walk. Seigaku usually played the follow-up, with 'what _he_ said!' and 'Yeah, you tell him!' as punctuation to anything Hatsumi spouted out. Now, however, Seigaku was silent. Kuronue knew what that meant, and strained to fly faster, farther, and out of the range of the best bowman ever born on mount Kurama.

Kuronue heard a hum, and something sliced the air inches from his head into silk ribbons. He saw the gold-tipped, black-feathered arrow continue on its deadly path until it was just a shimmer in the sky.

His wings could not pump hard enough now, even though his shoulders and back screamed with the effort. His lungs burned, his eyes watered, and he swerved, cutting through the air as he heard the crystalline whisper of another golden arrow behind him. Behind him, Hatsumi still shouted, egging on Seigaku for another arrow, another try.

Kuronue cursed to himself. If he dropped the bags he could go faster, maybe even outfly his chasers, dive down into the greenery below and hide. Somehow. Maybe for just a few minutes, long enough to catch his breath, or at least long enough to pray and fight before he died. Knowing the two behind him, if he tried that, he'd have about five minutes, if he was very, very lucky.

And Kuronue knew he hadn't been born under the luckiest star.

The arrow felt like liquid fire. Gold - not silver, as humans in the future would assume - was deadly to shapeshifters like Kuronue. A Nue, a chimera, was immune to the effects if it was in coin or jewelry form, but an arrow dipped in liquid gold, or a dagger with enough gold melted into the iron, was as good as the most potent of poisons to a human. It struck him in the hip and he spun through the air, screaming in pain, the packs and his dagger, which he did not remember drawing, tumbling down with him.

There was the white of lingering snow, the dull brown of mud, fresh green, and then, finally, black.

In the darkness, he heard the sound of silver and blood, and finally drifted away.

* * *

Kuronue realized with sudden clarity that waking up was so much easier when the view wasn't the same charm-lined ceiling he'd been staring at for the better part of the last century. The white-washed ceiling here had to take a distant second to waking up with his head in Shuuichi's lap, but-

_Oh._

Memory seeped up from the dark and still muzzy parts of his mind, and he recalled the last few minutes before that Shinigami had touched him. The thoughts clicking into place formed a red-hazed picture of sad green eyes and messy hair, and behind those eyes, that gaze he remembered, had seen every day for well over five hundred years.

He groaned, rubbing at his eyes with one hand, a heavy sigh leaving him in the quiet room. He could hear voices off somewhere, distant and vague. Right now they meant nothing to him. Right now, he needed to think, adjust his priorities, find out what that Shinigami had done to him. Then he could focus on just how badly Youko had tried to screw him. _Again._

He lifted his hand, feeling an unfamiliar metal weight around his wrist. He looked at it blearily, willing it to make some visual sense until he realized that, yes, it was an inhibitor, and that the softly glowing glyphs around its circumference indicated it was sent directly from Reikai. That meant no killing humans, for one thing. A significant lack of power, for another. Maybe. He turned his focus inward, on the flickering light that was his own youki, and examined it.

He wasn't _less_ powerful than before, which was surprising. Usually a Reikai Inhibitor would cripple a demon until his youki was barely more than a whisper above D-class. Nearly human, disgustingly enough. No, this seemed to cap him at... high C. Nice. Weird, but nice. Either someone hadn't been paying attention when they set the thing's limits, or they'd given him a high ceiling on purpose.

He very much doubted the latter circumstance.

He still felt odd, though. Not quite drained, but tired in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time. Weary as if from physical exertion, though certainly taking a bath and eating wasn't like doing reps with thousand-pound weights. His muscles all ached dully, and his head still, even after schooling his thoughts into coherency, felt like his brain had been replaced by wet cotton.

A moment of monumental effort allowed him to roll onto his side, and he pushed himself up to sit, shoving his hair out of his eyes as he did. Maybe he _should_ have cut it all off... the weight was probably what made his head feel so heavy.

No, that wasn't true. He knew why he felt like shit. He just didn't like admitting it to himself any more than he would have liked saying it out loud.

"Damn," he murmured, pressing his palms against his eyes. The sequence of the last few days still clicked into place, pieces of a machine that he had to put together without knowing what the finished mechanism was supposed to look like. He muttered to himself, reciting facts, implications, conclusion. Always the same picture of sad, evasive eyes and a quiet little frown that he just could not erase from his head.

But, he had to try.

He lumbered slowly to a standing position, his muscles protesting all the while. A second of vertigo made the room tilt dangerously, but he held onto his balance and stood upright, surveying the room.

It was... plain. While technology and clothing and even the taste of the air had changed over the years, evidently architecture and decoration hadn't moved very far beyond what he had seen in the last century. Sliding doors, paper windows; the standard temple room. The familiarity of it was both comforting and unnerving. After all he had seen outside of this place, all of the extreme changes the world had gone through, being in a room that looked as old as he was set back his suspension of disbelief to absolute zero. He covered his face again, and took a breath.

Given another moment, he might have broken down. All of the stimulus, all the changes, all the insanity of the last few days was turning around inside him, looking for a way out. Instead, the door opened, and Shizuru peeked in.

"Oh, I thought you were still sleeping. How you feelin'?"

He dragged his hands down over his head, and forced a smile. "I suppose I feel more alive than I have in years, but living means being... how did Urameshi say it... ah, 'totally freaked out' by everything."

"I kinda know how you feel," she said, leaning on the doorframe. "This kind of shit kind of creeps up on you."

He nodded, and a kind of awkward silence fell over them. He could hear conversation in another room, though it was quiet.

"They're still figuring out what to do," Shizuru murmured, gesturing in the direction of the conversation. "That thing Botan put on you, um... didn't hurt you, did it?"

Kuronue flapped a hand at her "It doesn't hurt. Not more than my pride, anyway." She nodded, and he could see, and was slightly disturbed by, the relief in her face. He wanted to ask, but from the other room he heard a chorus of farewells, with a louder goodbye for Shizuru from the Shinigami. He listened to her departure, and then turned his attention back to Shizuru. "Gone already?"

She shrugged. "I don't think considering - er - Shuuichi's reaction, that she'd want to stick around too long."

He looked at her closely. "What do you mean by that?"

Shizuru held up her hands and mimed a punch. "He almost knocked her block off when she clapped that thing on you. Hiei had to knock him down and take him out of the room."

Kuronue lifted an eyebrow, impressed and slightly confused by that. Kurama knew inhibitors didn't harm beyond exhaustion. Why react so violently? Why the hell would he care so terribly much over something so insignificant?

Curious.

"What is to happen now?" He asked, setting that information to the side. Whatever Kurama's motivations, that was less important than finding out why the Shinigami had bound him instead of taking him directly to Reikai authorities, or why he hadn't been taken already by special forces. In fact, aside from the Shinigami, he'd seen nothing of Reikai since he'd awakened. He mulled these thoughts over as Shizuru collected her own. Obviously, he wasn't the only one having trouble figuring out what to do next.

Urameshi joined them before Shizuru could answer. Kuronue nodded at him respectully, and noticed with more than a twinge of unease that the casual, cool demeaner that Urameshi had shown earlier was gone.

"You're awake," Urameshi said, returning the nod. "Good. We have to get going. Are you good to fly at all, or are you grounded?"

Kuronue blinked at him, slightly irritated at the curtness of Urameshi's tone, but respectful of how the human didn't beat around the bush. It was time now, apparently, for business.

"If I fly, it has to be a short distance, or a glide. The rest of me is fine." Albeit sore.

Urameshi nodded. "'S what I thought. You're going to be sticking with me. Shizuru, you and Kazu are going to head around the east side of the metro, Kuronue and I will take west. Botan isn't talking, so we're going to have to assume what we're in for now is entirely without Reikai support. I've put in a message to Hokushin, so he'll be gathering reinforcements for if things go all wahoonie shaped."

Shizuru sighed, but nodded her compliance. She patted Kuronue on the shoulder and gave him a mock-sympathetic look. "Have fun with wild boy, here. We'll try to clean up after," she said, and ducked out before Urameshi could defend himself.

"Man, she never gives me any credit," Urameshi muttered, before turning his bright, likely usual grin on Kuronue. "Ready to go?"

"What about... Shuuichi? And Hiei?" It felt odd to use that human name when he thought about Youko, when the face didn't match but seemed so right.

"Sticking here. Hiei's gotta let his eye heal before he tries any heavy-duty work, and... well, Shuuichi needs to take a time-out for a while anyway."

"I heard he almost throttled the Shinigami," Kuronue said dryly, enjoying the little fun at Kurama's expense. Urameshi laughed.

"Hah! Yeah, none of use saw that coming. He must like you, to get all protective. But that ain't really the reason. He's got no reiki anymore, and going out in a situation like this might get him killed. And I don't know about you, but I kinda like having him around, you know?"

Kuronue did, and nodded is acquiescence. Urameshi turned, then motioning for Kuronue to follow, out of the temple and down the steps, back towards the darkened city.

* * *

Kurama lay with his arms over his eyes, taking up far too much space on the floor of a practice room, thinking of a thousand and one ways the last ten minutes could have gone better. The first three hundred or so were comprised of being fast enough to knock Botan off her silly, airheaded feet. Of course, that was uncharitable considering she had just been doing her job, and was in no way malicious towards Kuronue, but...

Well, this was the reason he had been sent into a different room while Yuusuke gave her a stern talking to. Kurama was obviously biased. And he'd almost punched Botan's skull in. His fist had, in fact, been en route right up until Hiei had knocked him down. After that it had been all confusion and shouting and Kurama being sent to the other room like a bad puppy. He'd thought at first that they'd even locked the door, but a few minutes after his being sent away, Misa ambled in (limping only slightly, and looking just as smug and superior as she always did) and clamored into his lap so she could knead his stomach contemplatively.

Now he lay, glaring at the wall and petting Misa behind the ears. He could only just hear voices in he other room. He was disappointed that no one had taken up his torch and started shouting in Kuronue's defense. Or at least talking in a significantly raised voice so he could hear what was going on without having to listen at the door. When he'd tried that earlier, Hiei had threatened to break his nose.  
Conversation in the other room had gone on for several hours now. The boredom and helplessness was getting to him. He hated sitting in the quiet with no plan and nowhere to go. Right now, he wanted more than anything to be alone. Unfortunately, that was impossible. He cursed the fact that all of his friends (and an alarming number of his enemies) could find him very easily, even when he didn't want to be found.

He stared at the ceiling, this dark thought swimming through his mind and noticed suddenly some tiny movement in one corner of the room. He tried to focus, to make his eyes sharper, and grimaced, only succeeding in getting a headache. Count that one up to another thing he couldn't do any more.

He sat up, much to Misa's discontent, and deposited the grumbling cat on the floor, going to the corner. He stared up, glaring at the junction of wall and ceiling, trying to find what he'd glimpsed before.

There.

A spider.

It was just a common, brown spider. He'd probably inadvertently swallowed thousands of the little things in his sleep over the years, and this one was likely as harmless as its dead ancestors. And yet...

He watched the vile, hapless thing make its skittering progress along the wall, to the safety of the corner. He raised his hand, hovering it inches above the bloated little body, following its trail and feeling a surge of malicious, righteous anger. The temple was supposed to be safe. _The_ safe place. Even though evidence of the past had proved contrary, Kurama suddenly felt the need to believe that the safety of the temple could not ever be compromised.

Be brought his hand down viciously, and the little creature died instantly.

_And let that be a lesson to you,_ he thought, feeling half-insane for the phrase. He wiped his hand on his jeans and went back to his spot on the floor, holding his cleaner, though injured hand out to Misa. The pain of motion was like ice on his brain, and he felt more awake than he had since he'd lunged at Botan.

He tried listening to the murmur of conversation again, but listening much harder now. Picking out words - temple, west, reinforcements, war, alone. When his ears grew dull he wrenched his arm, and the pain made everything sharp again. And when finally the conversation died, he listened for footsteps.

He looked up when the door opened, revealing Hiei. He was beckoned from the room, and went with his head down, Misa following with the kind of loyalty only cats possessed, born out of pure curiosity.

"We're staying," he muttered, realizing that the other voices had died not because of a lull in conversation, but because everyone else had left. Hiei nodded.

"Yukina stayed too, to make sure we heal without complications." There was a tone to Hiei's voice, the one that suggested argument in this matter would leave someone with _two_ broken arms. Kurama kept his peace.

Hiei led him into the kitchen, where there was food and tea. The rain had started up again, and was splattering lazily against the glass windows, painfully out of place in the old temple, but necessary. They sat at the table, its wood pockmarked with nearly a century of meals, conversations, debates, and faced each other. The food was ignored for now as Hiei produced a pack of cards and dealt between the two of them, occasionally dealing to Misa, curled on the table's edge.

"You know she always cheats," Kurama said, forgetting himself with a soft smile. Hiei nodded and tapped the deck down.

"She learned from the best," he replied, and they played in silence while the clouds darkened noon to midnight.

* * *

The drive back to Tokyo took a lot less time now that the night before. Part of it was that they were going downhill, and part was that Yuusuke seemed intent on cheating death at every corner, guiding the car down steep, slim roads at a speed even demons would feel uncomfortable with.

Kuronue, being a demon, was mighty uncomfortable.

He'd learned the way to survive each stomach-churning turn was to grab onto what Yuusuke called the 'oh shit bar,' a little handle above the window. It was a small comfort that he'd have something to hold on to if the doors suddenly fell off and he found himself dangling over a bottomless pit.

It was a combination of that and the... music that had him more panicky than he allowed himself to be.

"HOW FAR DO WE HAVE TO GO?" He shouted, clutching the ohshit bar and his seatbelt as they took another dangerous curve. Yuusuke glanced over like he just remembered Kuronue was there, and hit a button on the car's panel, cutting off the music. Kuronue silently sent a fervent prayer of thanks to whatever God was near.

"We've got about an hour of driving, so you might as well sit back and relax. Here, hold the wheel." To Kuronue's horror, he let go of the steering wheel and started rummaging behind the seat, leaving Kuronue to guide the rapidly accelerating car down the slick mountain roads.

"Are you _insane?_"

"God, you're such a whiner," Yuusuke grumbled, taking a black case from the garbage-strewn back seat and flipping through it. The little round things inside flashed by in a parade of color and shine until he chose one, replacing it with another that had been in the car. Then he took the wheel, shoved Kuronue back into his seat, and hit the noise button again. "RELAX," he shouted, grinning madly, "AND ENJOY THE CULTURE."

--

Kurama wasn't used to failure. Defeat, yes. Surrender, sure. But he had never gotten used to the cold, depressed feeling that followed a complete failure.

Right now, he was failing to be distracted from thinking about the lake behind the temple. The lake, and what was _in_ the lake.

He hadn't yet been expressly forbidden from leaving the temple, just temple grounds. Not that he could get anywhere easily, with the rain and the distance and the lack transportation. But the lake...

He looked at Hiei, who had grown bored of cards and now sat with his head down on his arms, Misa curled up at his elbow. He probably wasn't asleep, but he wasn't going anywhere, either.

Quietly, Kurama stood and began to edge towards the outer door of the kitchen, towards the veranda and the forest. And the _lake._

"Where are you going?" Hiei demanded from behind him. Kurama didn't turn, and knew Hiei hadn't moved from his half-asleep slump over the table.

"Taking a walk," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I have some thinking to do."

"I was told to keep watch on you," Hiei said. Kurama still did not turn, but was sure Hiei's eyes were closed when he said things like that.

Kurama sneered at the trees, his fists clenching in their hiding places. "What do you think I'll do, tag along after them on foot?"

"You've done stupider things," Hiei grunted, and Kurama spun, uttering a snarl that was thoroughly inhuman as he did. That, at least, had not left him. He was still more animal than he would ever be human.

But Hiei's head was up, and he was sitting straight, looking at Kurama with a calm, academic calculation in his eyes. He realized, ashamed, that one hand had flown to his hair, ready to call a weapon that wouldn't come, to attack his friend.

Silence, their ever more familiar friend, lay down between them and stretched, drawing the room into quiet shadows that watched them, curious and bloodthirsty. Kurama, cracking under the pressure, lowered his hand.

"You're still faster than a normal human," Hiei said finally, pushing the silence back. He crossed his arms on the table, and lowered his head onto them. "Use that to your advantage."

Kurama stared at him, unbalanced, unsure, and finally turned, stepping down from the temple and into the quiet green of the forest.

* * *

It took every single ounce of effort Kuronue possessed not to fall to his knees and kiss the ground when Yuusuke finally stopped and parked the car. He _did_ stumble out with numb legs, ringing ears, and the unsettling feeling of being pursued by a persistant and eager Shinigami, but managed not to prostrate himself before a jizo statue in thanks.

Yuusuke, unconcerned and still with that grin, exited the car and lit up cigarettes for the both of them. Kuronue could barely hear himself mumble thanks.

"So that's what music is these days," he sighed after a few calming drags of poison. He looked at Yuusuke with a mixture of disgust and respect. "I thought demons tortured their ears. That's kind of impressive."

"What, that? Megallica is tame compared to some bands. I figured we'd need something to get us in the mood to kick some ass." He flicked the cigarette away (half-finished, Kuronue noticed with no small amount of horror) and pushed off from his lean against the car, pacing around the empty street.

They'd seen no humans in the last few minutes, nothing but a few birds, the odd squirrel, but the streets, which had been packed a day before, were completely empty. It was terribly unnerving.

"We've got to keep going on foot," Yuusuke said, suddenly business again. Kuronue watched him pace from sidewalk to sidewalk curiously. He could tell the man was part demon, and that didn't surprise him much; there were a lot of hanyoukai running around. Outbreeding had been common enough before he'd been imprisioned, it only stood to reason the practice had gotten more popular.

What surprised him about Yuusuke was how weirdly commanding the man was, without being... well, a commander. Kuronue _wanted_ to listen to him, to follow his orders, to walk right into the mouth of danger following that cocky grin and careless attitude. And that was even more unsettling than the car ride. He'd never been the following type, Youko being the singular exception, and that had been less following and more...

Not a topic he wanted to be on now. He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out, standing at ready attention. Yuusuke was mumbling to himself.

"What?"

"On foot, like... there's no running electricity here. I could climb up a phone tower and not get shocked. But there are still lights on in some places. Like there." Yuusuke pointed to a tall building to the north. It was mostly dark but for two windows far up, which glowed with eerie light. "We can't drive up there, so, on foot."

"Something tells me I really don't want to go up there," Kuronue said, gazing up at the window with a feeling of dread.

"Neither do I," Yuusuke murmured behind him. "But we've gotta."

* * *

The wind had revived, whipping pine boughs and impossibly tall bamboo stalks in its wake, the leaves swimming through the sky. Cedar rustled, leaves too wet with the soaking rain to move much. Kurama could hear nothing above the wind and the trees. Not the voices of animals, or the soft hum of earth - a sound he'd spent his entire long lifetimes moving to. He felt deaf and helpless, without even the sanctuary of signs to communicate with the world he had worshipped since his birth.

He couldn't hear the soft chuckle of Inari, always a little suggestive voice in his ear. That... bothered him more than anything.

When he knew he was out of easy view from the temple, he dropped to his knees and began to dig. He shoved his hands into the dirt, past pain for now, and felt nothing but cold, packed wetness, smelling nothing but rain, hearing nothing but mud. He wanted to scream, but... Hiei would hear, and the last thing Kurama wanted was to humiliate himself further. The screams stayed in his head, pleading, begging something to speak to him, to hear the sound of a spirit nearby, to know he wasn't completely cut off.

No sound came. Kurama closed his eyes, held up his hands to the rain, and let the dirt wash away. He stood, and continued his walk, mind numbly quiet, ears ringing with the sound of ennui.

--

He reached the lake at a much slower pace than he usually took, but he knew that he had the time to waste. For now, at least.

The surface of the lake was a criss-cross of ripples, an amorphous dance of water and wind. The light had dulled to near-darkness, and as a result the lake looked black and foreboding, the small waves turned into grasping hands. The water wanted him, and he was afraid. He had always been afraid of the water, and that was why he'd hidden _it_ here.

Kuronue's pendant.

The last, fractured piece of Kurama's soul.

It hadn't been hard, that long time ago, to discern that the pendant was indeed the one Kuronue had made for him, and been given for safe keeping. After all, it was a piece of Kurama himself, and sang to him even while the impostor held it in his foul grip. With that, Kurama had been easily fooled until that last moment, when the silver-red arc flashed from the demon's hands.

The demon had died, Yakumo defeated, world saved. All was once again well, at least in the Japanese-speaking part of the world. Everyone had gone on their way - to school, to home, to the quiet hiding place no one could ever quite find.

And Kurama had come here. To the lake where he had prepared to kill Kuronue, to a glowing moon on dark water, where he never dared go deeper than his feet could touch, and even then felt the cold coil of terror on his spine, irrational and childish.

He was prepared, that night, to finally let go. To have that wound closed for good, to let Kuronue die. The pendant had flown from his hand like a small comet, and landed with barely a splash in the middle of the lake's darkness. It took a long time for the red shimmer to fade from sight, but Kurama stood for hours, waiting to be sure, wishing with all his might that he had not just done the thing he had.

Now he stood at the edge of the lake, forced himself not to calculate how long it took for a human to drown, and stepped into the water.

* * *

04/23/10  
TBC

Always, thanks to HColleen and Osoimaru 3


	15. Echoes

Fifteen

Echoes

_You idiot._  
It was Kurama's first thought the third time he surfaced for air, only seconds after submerging. It might have been a good idea to remember that human lungs had limitations on how long they could retain air.

And damn, it had seemed like such a good idea five minutes ago, when he wasn't in the middle of the deepest part of the lake, treading water and looking at the shore through a strengthening fall of rain. Five minutes ago, he'd been confident.

Now, it seemed like all the stress, exertion, and insanity of the last few days had decided to come and make his body pay the rent, and he was way, way low on yen.

The problem was the water. He hated water, hated having to swim, and most of all hated having his head submerged. So many little things he'd easily avoided by just making whatever he wanted grow. Gods what he wouldn't give for even a breath of youki, to coax a little vine down to the lakebed to get the pendant for him. Of course, that would be cheating, but he was a born cheating, lying sneaktheif. He couldn't help it if his thoughts went first to the crooked side of problem solving.

Now, however, he had to rely on a weak body and a mind that was running head on down the road of functional insanity. And he kept telling himself that this, no matter how much he hated it, was how it had to be.

That he believed it made him feel doubly stupid.

Well, there was nothing for it. He'd either dive, find the pendant, and strike for shore with the last of his energy and hope for the best, or drown. Either way, drowning seemed to be at the top of his list of options. He could _feel_ the pendant down there, a little point of strange that repelled his human body down to the atom, but the soul...

Oh, gods, he couldn't deny the call of that thing even if he was dead. He'd keep diving until he didn't have the strength to come up anymore, if he had to.

All right. He could do this. Breathe out, breathe in, dive. 

"You know," Yuusuke said pausing in the middle of the street, "something about this doesn't feel quite right.

In the middle of a silent Tokyo, lightless under a dead gray sky, Kuronue looked at Yuusuke, at the landscape, and back at Yuusuke. "Gosh, I wonder what it could be," he said dryly. Yuusuke pulled a face.

"I mean aside from all..." Yuusuke gestured, flapping his hands at the world. "All this. There's something off. Something that was here earlier but isn't now that _should_ be."

Kuronue looked down the unfamiliar streets, put his hands in his pockets, and waited. Yuusuke paced in front of him, pointing mutely at buildings, at the sky, at the one light glowing in the high-rise they'd been heading towards.

"All the lights..." Yuusuke said, his finger lingering on the window. "All the lights went out during the storm. The storm that..." he looked expectantly at Kuronue. After a moment, Kuronue shrugged.

"The storm that?"

Yuusuke grimaced. "Sorry, this is usually where Kurama finishes my sentences for me."

"You mean does your thinking for you?" Kuronue asked, putting on a mostly innocent face. It wasn't as if he didn't know the feeling.

"Something like that. But he usually... well, I don't have to tell you, I guess." He slumped, hands dropping to his sides. "This is frustrating. I know something is off here, but I don't know what. Usually the things that pull crap like this are punchable."

"This is a common occurrence for you, then." Not like that was any kind of a surprise. Nothing a half-mazoku who associated with creatures on all ends of the spiritual spectrum did would be a shock at this point. 

"Like you wouldn't believe," was the distracted reply. "Maybe we should- hello." Yuusuke took a step backwards, closer to Kuronue, his right hand rising to point in what was, somehow, a threatening gesture. "What the fuck is that?"

Kuronue followed the line he'd pointed out, and froze. There, half hidden in the shadow of an alleyway, was a dog. A big dog. A _familiar _dog.

It was black, thin, and the size of a small pony. What little light there was reflected off it's rain soaked fur, making it look like a living blot of ink. It snapped its teeth at them, shifting from foot to foot. Kuronue and Yuusuke took a simultaneous step back.

"That's a Tengu," Kuronue muttered. He grabbed Yuusuke's arm, stopping him before he could start running. "It's not attacking, don't run."

"I thought Tengu were penis-nosed bird guys," Yuusuke hissed back, his finger still up in that disconcerting manner.

"Do _I_ look like a penis-nosed bird guy?"

"Got the bird thing going for you, anyway." They took another step. The Tengu followed, its malformed snout casting an unnaturally long shadow on the pavement. "And you do kind of have a big nose."

Kuronue didn't dignify that with a response. While he appreciated Yuusuke's attempt to defuse the situation with humor, the look of that Tengu put him the farthest from a laughing mood he'd ever been. Another step back, and the Tengu slithered out of the alley, its paws oozing onto the sidewalk.

"It's... unreal," Yuusuke muttered.

Kuronue agreed, taking a chance and casting his gaze around for an easy exit. Then he clutched Yuusuke's arm. "We're surrounded," he hissed, glaring at a Tengu that had been sneaky enough to come within mauling distance. Its fur moved on its body like it was... covered in something. He didn't dare look closer to confirm a thought that cropped up in the back of his mind... one that was turning into a horrible certainty.

"How many?" asked Yuusuke, his raised finger impossibly seeming more threatening. And... was that a _glow _Kuronue could see, at the tip?

"Ten that I can see. Packs are large, like flocks." The one that had gotten close was crouching, its teeth snapping spastically at the misty rain. Yuusuke turned, his hand still in that ridiculous gesture. There was a flash of light; Kuronue could feel a searing heat pass terrifyingly close to his face, and the snarling Tengu was suddenly a puddle of so much black ichor.

"What did you-" Kuronue tried to quantify the relationship between pointing and sudden explosion and just couldn't; he'd _never_ seen a power like that before.

"Running now," Yuusuke cut him off, shoving him in the direction of the building before pointing at the first Tengu who had blocked their way. Another flash of blue-white light and it was gone. The enraged howls of the other Tengu - he'd underestimated how many there were, from the sound of it - following close at their heels.

The door of the high building was locked, but a quick and violent date with Yuusuke's fist twisted the metal runners and sent the glass flying. Kuronue didn't have time to argue that the Tengu could follow them, he was too busy being shoved into the building and trying not to be cut to pieces on the broken glass.

More flashes of light, this time flying around like shrapnel, and the howls of rage became animal screams of pain. Kuronue shuddered. Even though he no longer felt any real kinship with other Tengu, whatever Yuusuke was doing didn't sound like something he'd ever want to experience.

Howls bounced off the walls of the barren room they had burst in to - nothing but a long staircase in the center and a forlorn potted plant decorated the place. The floor was clean but for the glass, which glinted (really, he could practically hear the glass saying 'glint') in the dimness.

Yuusuke drew up even with Kuronue, rubbing his arm with a scowl on his face. Kuronue stared at him, waiting. Buildings like this were entirely out of his league, and the only current available topic of conversation was what Yuusuke had done to those Tengu, and he really didn't want to know right now.

The echo of the howling had faded now, leaving only the hypersharp sound of light on glass, and their breathing. 

"Since when do birds turn into dogs?" asked Yuusuke, hands now in his pockets. He was staring at the floor, eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

"'Tengu' is translated as 'mountain dog' for a reason," said Kuronue. "We can change shape to a bird or a dog of our choice. Some are better than others."

"That why part of your name is 'nue?'"

Kuronue blinked, surprised. Yuusuke was sharp, sure, but now he was beginning to see that grinning waters ran deep. "Yes, I was exceptional at shapeshifting. I'd sneeze and have feathers when I was a baby."

Yuusuke laughed a little at that, but his eyes remained on the floor. Kuronue took it as an invitation to continue. Anything to fill the oppressive, glinting silence of the place.

"We were dogs before the crows ever came to us," he said, suppressing the urge to pace as he spoke. "Nine, maybe ten thousand years ago when a God's power was growing thin. It wanted to... I don't know, continue its legacy, even though it would be split in so many pieces."

"Gods can die?" This time Yuusuke glanced up, an eyebrow raised. "I thought they could just be locked up or something."

Kuronue shook his head. "No, they don't die. Nothing ever _really_ dies. Especially something that people believed in. But there are times, such as after a genocide or an invasion, when one God is replaced by another. When belief in a God dwindles, it weakens, and fades away until it's only so many manuscripts and legends."

A howl far off in the distance made them both jump. They turned and looked at the gaping doorway, then at each other.

"We should go," said Yuusuke. He started towards the staircase, Kuronue following close behind. The howl, still echoing off the bare walls, seemed to follow at their heels, the sound of a menacing shadow.

"I thought we weren't taking detours." Shizuru was whittling down her last pack of cigarettes as she stood next to the truck with a grim look on her face.

Kazuma turned at the gate and gave her a pained look. "She's a nice lady, sis. I know Kurama wouldn't want her to worry." They had stopped halfway through their sweep of the city at the Hatenaka household, specifically to check on Kurama's mother. His stepdad and brother too, of course, but it was really Hatenaka Shiori Kurama cared about, and they all knew it.

Shizuru glanced around. The neighborhood was just as quiet as the city had been. They'd seen one or two frightened looking people, and there were areas thick with lost-looking fresh ghosts, but any other signs of life were limited. Just the blank gray clouds and hundreds of crows.

Crows that didn't call. Crows that were still on wires and rooftops and _stared._

She crossed her arms when Kazuma rang the doorbell; the sound echoed out into the street with a loudness that made her skin crawl. A few crows flapped their wings on the wires across the street, but there was no other noise. Even the wind was dead, here.

"I don't think she's home," she started, then there was a click from the door, especially loud, and the first real light she'd seen since they left the temple spilled from the entrance as the door opened.

Hatenaka _nee_ Minamino Shiori clutched at the door, staring out at them with fear and hope so strong that it made Shizuru's heart break to see it. She pushed away from the truck to stand next to her brother, resisting the urge to throw her cigarette at one of the crows and stubbing it out on the sole of her shoe instead. 

"Minamino-san," Kazuma said, bowing. "Are you all right?"

There was a tense moment while Shiori glanced between them, unsure before recognition dawned. 

"Ah, you're Kuwabara-kun, and your sister as well?" Relief filled her eyes as her grip on the door lessened. "Please, come in. Have you seen Shuuichi? I tried to call him, but the phones..."

Shizuru admired the woman's calm. As they followed her in she could see the woman's hands shaking, the way her eyes darted up and down the street before she closed and double-locked the doors behind her.

"He's fine," Kazuma said, toeing off his shoes. "His apartment was hit pretty bad by the storm, but he's staying with Hiei for now." It was kind of a lie, but benign enough for Shizuru to only shoot him a slightly dirty look.

"Thank goodness," Shiori murmured, rummaging in a closet off the foyer. She pulled out two pairs of battered house shoes, handing one to each of them. "Those two always got along so well."

Shiori led them into the house. All of the lights were on, even in the closets and pantry, filling the house with a warm glow. Still, there were corners and nooks that held shadows that seemed far too dark, and hallways that were just a little too dim for comfort. Only the kitchen, where Shiori busily put out tea and snacks that would have been appealing in any other circumstances, was devoid of their shadows, but only because all the cupboards and drawers were open, and someone had pointed a flashlight down the back of the refrigerator.

"Shuu-chan, my stepson," Shiori said, babbling slightly as she worked, "I sent him across the street with his friend Naota. Their place is smaller, but they have fewer windows." Shizuru glanced at the window over the kitchen sink, and noticed that it was covered with a flattened cardboard box. "And my husband is out of the country right now, so he should be fine." Her hands were shaking, spilling tea over the cups.

Shizuru reached out and took the pot from her; Kazuma pulled out a chair. Shiori stared at them, sat down, put her face in her hands, and began to cry.

Something was... bothering him. Hiei grimaced, burying his face in his arms. He'd only just gotten to sleep, damn it. Just a minute more was all he needed. But something, something...

He blinked. Misa was licking his knuckles. A cat's tongue, it is well known, is sandpapery and wet, so being licked by a cat can be either the most amusing or most irritating sensation in all creation. Having a cat lick your knuckles while asleep is also the most effective wake-up call outside of a vuvuzela to the ear ever conceived.

He glared at the cat. The cat stared back. He sighed. He'd learned that cats were like him; once they decided a thing should be a certain way, nothing could convince them to change their course until satisfied. He waggled his fingers at the cat and sat up to stretch.

He stopped. The light was wrong.

Hiei knew he'd only put his head down for a few minutes after Kurama left, not more than five. Certainly not long enough for the sun to come out.

It was too bright in here for a rainy evening, even in summer. The way the clouds had been wouldn't allow for any sun.

Warily, he pushed away from the table and stood, walking to the side door that opened out to the veranda. Misa jumped down after him, twining between his legs once before staring intently at the door, intent as if on the hunt.

He stood with his back against the wall, listened for a moment, then flicked the lock and pushed the door open. It rolled on its sliders easily, drifting to a stop halfway open. Light poured into the kitchen, reflecting off the chrome and polished counters until it filled the room with the kind of shine that hissed through the air. Hiei winced and shielded his eyes with a hand. This would be a perfect time for something to attack... and nothing did.

Sighing, he glanced down at Misa, who gave him an expectant look and then padded out the door. He turned the corner to follow, then grabbed the doorframe and swung himself back when his feet touched nothing but open air.

He realized that, if he'd had one, this would have been the very definition of pulse-pounding moment. He gathered himself, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then crouched down and glanced around the corner and out the door.

It was blue. The blue of sky, and if he looked down he could see the tops of soft white clouds and the sparkling gray of a city.

Of... Tokyo. Which he very well knew was much farther away than the temple's back porch. Hiei glared at the offensively inexplicable landscape and stood up. Misa was out there, too, standing on nothing, looking back at him reproachfully. He would be damned if a cat was going to best him at being brave in the face of the strange.

He squared his shoulders and walked out the door, hoping that, wherever Yukina or Kurama were, it was somewhere with solid ground.

TBC

08/19/10


	16. Duty

Sixteen

Duty

* * *

_What am I doing exactly,_ Hiei wondered, looking about himself. _Would this be going through the wardrobe or down the rabbit hole?_

He'd hesitated for a moment, foot hovering over the threshold that separated familiar temple with empty sky, but had pressed on. His foot had met ground. The world, instantly, had changed. The sky was nowhere it shouldn't be - above, mainly - and just as grey and dark as it had been when Kurama left. The ground he stood on, however, was not anywhere remotely near Genkai's Temple. He knew, he'd know even if he was blind, that he had stepped into Makai.

He looked around, bewildered. He would have known if he'd walked through a gate, or a portal, or if something had picked him up and dropped him into the middle of a demon forest. He'd have felt the presence of demons, smelled them, tasted them on the air. This couldn't be Makai, but his brain, despite reason, was telling him otherwise.

A faint pressure at his ankle made him jerk and look down, ready to strike at whatever assaulted him, only to stare into the yellow eyes of Kurama's little cat. It stared back, expectantly. It _should_ have been dead, demon's pet or not, after breathing the poisonous air. Or rather, the air that was supposed to be poisonous but inexplicably wasn't.

Hiei bent and picked up the cat, holding it at arms length for a moment, expecting it at any moment to turn into some shapeshifting trickster thing, but nothing happened. Well, the cat yawned, but nothing more than that. He cradled the animal in the crook of his left arm, and leaped into the trees.

They were tall, taller than redwood or sycamore or any other massive tree Hiei could name; taller than any trees he'd encountered in Makai during his life. The further he ascended the branches, wide as roads in themselves, the further the canopy seemed to stretch, eternally out of reach. After a few moments he stopped, irritated. This was no way for trees to behave. He glanced down, to see how far he'd come.

_What the entire hell..._

Nowhere. All that leaping had gotten him no farther than the first branch of the tree he'd chosen. He could even see his footprints in the brownish earth, without even needing to stray his eyes. Cursing, he dropped down, landing in the same spot with a soft thud. It echoed.

_Echoed? _Surely not; he hadn't fallen heavily enough to cause an echo since early childhood, hundreds of years ago, and the soft earth here wouldn't conduct such a quiet noise as _his _passage anyway. What the hell was going on?

The cat meowed at him, the sound reverberating along the impossible tree and then

Everything

Folded in on itself.

He felt like origami, the intricate illusion of form and substance twisting out of creased paper. The cat was still in his arms, but even that wasn't enough reality right now. Not real reality, like he knew every day. Now everything was _more_ real and _more_ defined and something blew life into the paper crane the whole universe had become and he knew where he was now.

This had happened before.

The cat squirmed in his arms and he let it go, following it down a path that didn't echo the sound of his footsteps but the very reliability of their existence. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sulked along a path bare of any trees taller than the shoulder height of a normal human - which meant taller than _him_ but he wasn't given to care just then. He knew where he was, and last time coming here hadn't been quite so... showy. He didn't like it when one of _them _felt they needed to show off. It was like they were planning something.

The cat had climbed into a tree, but he didn't need its guidance. He stared at it like the traitor it was - of course, he should have known, it was a cat, after all - and took the Garden's path to a flower-saturated gazebo. He sat under the awning arms crossed, face set into a scowl.

"My, you seem very cross, this time around," Inari said, _arriving. _That was the thing with Gods that weren't predictable and stupid like Koenma. Inari was a God who enjoyed style, who loved showing off to people He thought would be impressed. Hiei's scowl deepened. Inari smiled at him and he was dazzled, which made him want to hit something.

"I don't appreciate being yanked around like this," he said, defiant of everything. The Garden of the Gods might have suitably impressed humans and other lesser creatures, but Hiei refused to be led into believing this place was anything short of a brightly colored, temporary prison. Inari had kept him here for months last time, and She'd smiled the same way.

Inari waved a hand, and a table decided it was the best idea to exist for Him at that very moment. A beautifully lacquered tea set decided to follow the table's example; the tea itself soon followed. Hiei glared at it like it was poison.

"You have not done your job," Inari said, a cup filling and presenting itself to Her. He sipped daintily before continuing. "I am not disappointed, mind, but I admit, it is perplexing that you would not wish to complete your task immediately."

Hiei bristled. He should have expected this and he hated it. He'd been turning it over in his mind for two - three? - rainy days and nights, watching for his chance and not taking it every single time one presented itself. A million responses ranging from an enraged growl to 'please, just take it back and we can forget this ever happened' ran over themselves in his mind. He chose the middle ground.

"The time isn't right." which was, they both knew, an outright lie.

"Hard to imagine," Inari said, glancing at Hiei over His cup, "that a weakened crow would be that hard to kill. Now that you've hesitated, you've put him right within reach of Our enemies."

_Yes_, Hiei thought, hatefully. _Your exalted enemies. Your enemies that you Gods can't handle yourselves so you throw us at them instead._ He was aware that Inari could read his thoughts like a book. And that She was amused.

"I also would not expect such solidarity, not from you. Isn't he..." Inari's expression changed at once from benevolent curiosity to a mask of pure, gleeful mockery. It was a hateful mask, and Hiei remembered why He was the God of foxes. "...Competition?"

Hiei's teeth ground together. He wouldn't scream what he was thinking, not aloud. He knew his job, and he knew Inari took joy in watching him suffer for it. The God could probably see, through his eyes or his mind or however Gods watched the living, the way Kurama watched with a kind of starved, hopeful terror every move the damn Tengu made. The way a lie gestated between them - all of them - and wrapped itself so tightly around every word that he wanted to gag just saying 'good morning.'

And the way he knew, that double-damned Kuronue _knew_ Kurama was lying to him and let it go, watched him suffocate under it. Hiei _wanted_ to kill him, just for that. But Kurama...

"Isn't it funny," Inari said, waving a hand to urge a teacup in Hiei's direction, "how Kurama looks at him the same way he used to look at you? So hopeful and yet so-" She trailed off, watching the passage of a flower as it broke from its stem and floated to the ground. Hiei, in the meantime, swatted the teacup away. At least _something_ here would feel his as-now very impotent wrath.

But, Inari was not paying attention. The God stood, looming over the fallen flower. "We are compromised," She hissed, and then the whole of the universe was filled, not just with His-Her-Its presence, but something-

Hiei fell out of his chair with a start, waking up when he hit the wooden floor of the temple kitchen. The cat, shocked and outraged that someone would make a noise during its naptime, darted away, yowling. Hiei groaned and rubbed his head, feeling stretched out. Gods, he hated Gods, and everything to do with them.

"Hiei?" He looked up muzzily at Yukina, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a first-aid kit under one arm. She looked... well, she always looked worried, but it was tempered with something that might be dubious thoughts about the sanity of a demon who took it upon himself to fall out of chairs while sleeping.

A long silence stretched between him, and he thought again about lies that everyone knew. It made him feel... cold.

"Weird dream," he said gruffly, shaking off the feeling and picking himself up. He gestured at the kit. "What's... um." Dammit, why did Kurama have to go and leave him alone with her? _Again?_

Yukina looked at the kit like she'd forgotten it was there. "Oh, um. That spider bite, I wanted to take a closer look at it. Kurama doesn't seem to be taking too well to healing and..." she blinked. "Where is he?"

* * *

The first odd thing was that Kurama's fingers didn't slide through sand or lake-mud, but scraped against... cement? And the second odd thing, which coupled with the first made him even more uneasy than he had been, was that he could 'see' light through his tightly-closed eyelids. There shouldn't have been light, here, at the bottom of a lake in the middle of a thunderstorm on a dark, dark evening in summer.

Kurama opened his eyes, and immediately winced at the sudden sting of chlorine, drew in a reflexive breath, choked, and kicked his way to the surface. It took far less time to break than it should have.

He was... in a pool. A bloody swimming pool, and not just any, but the pool in his apartment complex's fitness area. He'd swam in its overchlorinated waters plenty of times, it had been one of the reasons he'd agreed to move in after Yomi's annoying insistence. He swam from dead center to the small line of steps leading out, looking around bewildered at the very familiar place that he Should Not Be In. He couldn't sense any - no. Of course he _couldn't_ sense a portal or some kind of magic. He kept forgetting he was human, that he probably wouldn't be able to sense danger until it came up and slapped him in the face.

He stared at the pool area. It seemed... well, normal. Completely fine and just as it had been the last time he'd been down here. There wasn't even an ominous whirlpool or sickly glow indicating that some kind of foul magic had plucked him out of the lake by the temple and dropped him a hundred miles away like it was no big thing. Somehow, he felt like he'd been cheated.

So... what. He was home now, or home again, for however long. And soaking wet and cold under the blasted air conditioning, which a few days ago wouldn't have bothered him, but human skin was about as good a s a sheet of damp newspaper for keeping the chill away. He skirted the pool to a storage room that kept extra towels for the lazy and unprepared, drying himself off as best he could. Well, at least he could change, in theory. He knew he wasn't safe here, that Tengu and other horrors were probably lurking the halls waiting to tear him limb from limb, but somehow that seemed less frightening to him than the prospect of catching the first cold of his many, many years of life.

He glared at nothing, defiant in general of the turns south his life just had to keep taking, and tossed the towel into the pool. It sank forlornly to the greenish bottom. Kurama didn't spare it a second glance, and stalked out of the pool area. Damned if he cared what would happen next; he was sick of being led around by the nose.

The Pool was adjacent a fitness area and across from that, a small arcade, with a billiards table and a few dusty pinball machines. While Pacific Tower was a high-class living establishment, the median age was in the upper fourties, and most of the occupants were full-time businesspeople. Kurama was one of the only people under twenty-five who lived in the building that wasn't a dependant child; there was no need for newer entertainment here. But the billiards table, that was well maintained. The sticks especially were heavy and quite sturdy. He stopped long enough to grab one off the wall, setting it over his shoulder. He damn well wasn't going to let whatever brought him here take him without a fight.

* * *

Yuusuke skidded to a halt at the end of a hallway, Kuronue colliding with his back.

"Damn it- would you _warn _me next time?" The Tengu was grumbling. This was the... tenth time they'd done this very thing, and he had the feeling Kuronue was starting to get annoyed with him. But he couldn't know beforehand, not really, even though he was starting to get the idea.

Yuusuke backpedaled, forcing Kuronue to do the same or get run over. There wasn't enough room in these hallways for them to walk abreast, not completely at least, even flattening against the wall brought a lot of awkward closeness. Yuusuke wasn't uncomfortable with being in the lead, and admittedly the first few abrupt stops had been because of the pure impish urge to see how Kuronue would react. He'd laughed the first time, and the second, but after that he'd lost his patience. Well, he had a sense of humor, at least.

"Could you at least make train sounds when we do this?" Yuusuke complained, pumping his elbows into Kuronue's ribs. He got a thump on his head as soon as they were in a crossroads again.

"Could you at least take this seriously?" Kuronue demanded, though even without having to look Yuusuke knew he was still smiling, just a little. Yuusuke shrugged expressively, and grinned up at him.

"Naw, but I think I know where we're going now. Full steam ahead!" He raised one hand in the air, and went right back down the hallway they'd just backed out of. Kuronue didn't budge. Yuusuke grinned over his shoulder, arm still up like a Circus ringleader. "Come on, caboose, you're holding up the rest of the line."

"We just-"

"Get a move on!"

"Went down that-"

"Move it, Hoss!" Yuusuke pumped his fist in the air. "Time's a-wastin'!"

Kuronue's shoulders sagged, but he sighed and followed after anyway. Yuusuke smirked and continued his conductor/ringleader routine until they were halfway down the hallway, then spun around, pushed all of his ki out through his hands, and blasted Kuronue back out into the crosshall. Kuronue yelled curses at him even Atsuko wasn't creative enough to think up; Yusuke was impressed.

Kuronue had scrambled to his feet by the time Yuusuke made it to him, and looked ready to kill. Or to at least attempt killing, since it was painfully clear to both of them that Kuronue didn't have a snowball's chance in hell if he really wanted to try fighting. Yuusuke held up his hands.

"Before you haul off and punch me, look around," he said, still with a bright, disarming grin. That was the problem with being honest: people didn't think you were lying to them. And Yuusuke wasn't lying now, he didn't think Kuronue was enough of a threat to string along. Not to _him_, anyway.

Kuronue did as Yuusuke suggested, and looked around, seeing exactly what he needed to see, and what Yuusuke had been hoping to find.

They were not in the crosshall. Not the same one, anyway. Where the halls they'd walked down had been cramped and lined with locked doors, these halls were wide, and really only thin strips of wall between an endless parade of mirrors. Yuusuke watched with extreme glee as Kuronue's eyes got bigger, confused, a little angrier.

"What the _hell?_"

Yuusuke dropped his arms, rocking back on his feet. "Kinda fucked, isn't it? This is where we've been the whole time."

Kuronue swung around, taking in the infinite line of mirrors, then settling on Yuusuke. "What? We- the city? All those Tengu? When did we..."

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, Yuusuke said, sidling up to a mirror and tapping it with a finger. Something unspeakable ghosted past his reflection, and disappeared. "But I think we're sleeping."

* * *

Shizuru stood back, letting Kazuma be the one to awkwardly try comforting Mrs. Minamino/Hatenaka. The woman looked like she'd been through hell, and deserved someone with a little more empathy. Kazuma was trying his best, awkwardly patting her shoulder and asking if he could get her anything. The woman went right on weeping; dry, wracking sobs seemed to echo through the whole empty house.

Kazuma looked up for guidance, but Shizuru waved for him to sit tight. Mrs. Kurama's mom probably didn't even realize they were there any more. And...

And some thing wasn't _right._ Something was pulling at the corner of her mind, quietly insisting that she wasn't looking at the right angle. Or she was and she needed to look at the wrong angles instead. Maybe it was the overabundance of light in the kitchen. Maybe it was the way the woman's sobs seemed to echo inside her skull. Maybe she just needed a fucking smoke.

She turned on her heel, intent on stepping outside for a much-needed cigarette, when the whole world turned on its axis and one bright white arrow of intuition pointed at the stairs to the second storey of the house. He stared at the stairs, dark as pitch and telling everything except that white spot in her head that going up there would be a bad idea, the worst idea, the last mistake she'd ever make. Shizuru scowled and grasped the railing. She wasn't about to let some fucking architecture tell her what to do.

The stairs were padded, but they still creaked under her weight, the noise too sharp, like sound effects in a cartoon. She glared at her feet, belligerently taking each step, thumping hard on the last stair out of spite. The hallway at the top of the stairs was... pretty painfully normal, for all that shadowy darkness telling her otherwise. Something, though, kept making her want to turn away, to not look in the room at the end of the hall.

Which, because all of her instincts besides the one she listened to were saying not to, she did. The door was plain, and obviously to a bedroom, and slightly ajar. She pushed it open with little effort, and froze. She... hadn't quite been expecting this.

"KAZUMA," she shouted, turning her head, but not looking away from the room's interior. "GET UP HERE."

There was a scraping noise from downstairs. The sound of crying hadn't stopped, but Kazuma's voice eclipsed it. Shizuru almost smiled at the thought that her brother's gruff voice could ever sound like goddamn music.

"Shizuru? Aren't you the one who told me that going up spooky dark staircases was the stupidest-"

"NOW," she snapped, and the sound of shoes clattering up the stairs was like a miniature stampede. Kazuma grumbled as he came up behind his sister, peering over her shoulder.

"Kurama's ma is really bent out of shape, you know. What's so-" and then he stopped, because he saw.

Laid out on the bed inside the quiet little room was Hatenaka Shiori, sound asleep. They could still hear her sobbing in the kitchen. Kazuma twitched a little like he wanted to run back to the kitchen and check, just in case. But they could hear her, whimpering softly now, still down there surrounded by unnatural light while her body slept here, in the cool dark.

"Sis," Kazuma breathed, stepping into the room, then back out, as if the floor itself were a trap. "Sis, this is really bad."

"Yeah," Shizuru said, crossing her arms. "What's worse is, what happens to us when she wakes up?"

* * *

TBC

05/10/11

Note:

So we've made it this far. This marks way too many damn chapters in without things getting really hairy, but we've finally started to come to a point, yes? Some of your questions will be answered, soon. Some of you have made excellent guesses in the comments; well done!

A question for you all: Would it be preferable if I re-upped the (slightly edited for first-draft errors I haven't fixed yet because I am a lazy whore) chapters in a more compiled set, parsing them down from a ridiculous umpteen to ten or so? A few can be combined, but it isn't wholly necessary. Comments and critiques and ideas are so, so very welcome. Much love 3


	17. Chapter 17

Seventeen  
Race

* * *

The hideous scream that came from the tower - the most recent of many - made them all flinch. Touya had quietly got down cups, and Chuu had graciously shared around his sake. At one point, Shura had gone to his father's office to see what was going on, or at least try to make sense of the screaming. He'd come back and hadn't said a thing in the three hours since. The sake had done nothing so far to bring any color back to his face, and his hand still shook as he lifted his cup.

Jin, floating uneasily in the doorway, glanced around the room, and back up to the tower.

"D'you think we should...?"

The collective 'no' was flat and firm. Just like the last time he'd asked. Suzuki and Shishi had started up earlier under a fog of egotistical bravado, but had come pounding back in under a minute. Something had kept them very far away from Yomi's office. They kept glancing at Shura, as if amazed he'd made it that far up on his own.

By silent agreement, they'd all met in the little garden courtyard that represented the one part of Gandara that still bore the mark of its original ruler, Kurama. Yomi had probably kept this little place out of spite, planning for the day that Kurama came back to him, to remind him of what had once been. After all, Kurama had been practically a god here, before his abrupt and violent departure. There was speculation, though nobody living - besides Yomi and Kurama - knew the exact reason he had left.

Unfortunately, the reassuring presence of power that had always drifted through the place, a fine misting of personality, their current general, was gone. All of the youki that represented Youko Kurama seemed like it had been sucked into some vacuum that left the place curiously empty and cold.

Still, it was better than... up there.

"I don't like it," Jin muttered, crossing his arms and lowering himself to the floor. "You hear what's been going on over in Mukuro's territory, right?" The rest nodded, barring Shura, who just stared at the wall in silence.

"Do you... really think Kurama's over there?" Shishi asked, twisting his sake cup in his hands. "I mean, all the reports are saying it's his energy, but since when does he have the power to make it rain?"

"And why the hell would he want to make it rain in the desert," Chuu added, filling their cups for another round. The sake bottle was starting to feel alarmingly light. "Unless it was just to fuck with Mukuro, but, y'know."

"Hiei would get on his ass about it," Suzuki finished, and there was a brief round of weak laughter. Even Shura looked like he might have distantly thought of smiling.

There was a crack of thunder, but it was drowned out by another, horrible scream. Yomi was suffering some kind of insane hell up there, but...

"Is it just me," Touya said after an uneasy silence, "or does it sound like he's..."

"Laughing," Shura murmured. "He's been laughing the whole time."

They all stared at him. Shura continued to stare at the wall. "So black," he murmured, "a spiral of blackness. He was laughing."

Chuu put a hand on Shura's back, trying to be reassuring. Abruptly, Shura got to his feet. "We need to find Kurama," he said, looking at them all with a kind of mad determination. "He's a part of this. He'll know what to do."

Nobody could disagree with that. Kurama was the one they all went to, for any problem, never once believing that he couldn't cope with even the most bizarre situation. He was Kurama, he trained them, he ran Gandara while Yomi was busy being dictator. Or at least, he had up until recently. Still.

"So," Suzuki said, "to Mukuro's territory, then? At least, it'll be a start?"

Shura nodded, and started for the door. They all scrambled to their feet after him, Chuu bringing up the rear after making sure none of the sake was left behind. Priorities.

They ducked their heads into the permadarkness of Gandara, turning their backs to the empty courtyard, the great towers, and the mad, screaming laughter that echoed from Yomi's office.

* * *

"I don't follow," Kuronue said, squinting. He'd spent so much time asleep in the last eighty years that he rather well knew what it was like to be awake, simply because it was such a novelty. So many of those long days and nights he'd spent hiding in the back of his own mind that...

That reality had seemed more like a dream than his dreams had. All right, perhaps he wasn't the best judge. Still, this place may be weird but he certainly felt awake, and for all he knew it was popular for buildings to forget what their actual purpose was nowadays.

"It's like with Itsuki," Yuusuke said. "He was a demon that could pull people into his own little pocket dimension. But in there it was all just space and junk. Here, it's feeding off memories, like dreams do."

Kuronue stared at him blankly, feeling the creeping need to have a lie down and a whole pack of cigarettes whisper seductively into his ear. "And how do you figure that?"

Yuusuke beamed at him. "Because I used to have a dream where an old naked lady was chasing me through the building we were just in!"

He waited a bit, and when it was clear to Kuronue that Yuusuke wasn't about to quail in embarrassment over that particular admission, he shrugged. "I suppose I can't argue with that logic. Why did you blast me, then?"

"Ah, see, that's where the fun part is," said Yuusuke, tapping the side of his head. "See, dreams move around with you, they kind of make themselves real in your head while they're happening. As long as you don't take a second to notice they're actually dreams, they stay reality until you wake up. But, if you realize you're dreaming, you can beat the dream. 'sides, you ain't hurt, unless your pride can't take a little beating."

"So, in order for me to know I'm..." Kuronue rubbed his head. "To know I'm dreaming, you had to hit me."

"Yeah. You know, to wake you up a little."

Kuronue sighed. "I supposed it worked, considering we're..." He stopped, and his gaze snapped back to Yuusuke. "Do you mean to tell me," he said, voice low, "that we fell asleep while you were driving?"

Yuusuke's grin faded, face following as the color drained from his skin. "Oh. Oh fuck."

"Oh fuck is right," Kuronue grumbled, standing up and brushing himself off. He peered at Yuusuke, sure the boy wasn't telling him everything, but unwilling to make a judgement right then. The whole situation was much too bizarre for his liking. "Or maybe we're lucky, and that whole ride was a dream. It certainly seemed nightmarish enough."

"Hey!" Yuusuke jabbed a finger at him. "My driving isn't that bad, you ungrateful-" He stopped, his eye catching something over Kuronue's shoulder. Kuronue turned abruptly, but saw nothing. Before he could ask, Yuusuke shoved past him, stuck his face up to one of the mirror/windows, and shouted, "MARCO!"

It was right at the point where Kuronue had decided maybe Yuusuke was a little too insane for his liking when Kurama's voice echoed in a bemused way from the mirror, "Polo?"

* * *

This was not the building he was used to.

Kurama had walked cautiously down a hall that had begun familiar, but very rapidly turned into territory thus unexplored. For one thing, there weren't quite so many portraits hanging in the hallways of Pacific Tower. For another, his apartment building did have the comforting decency to not bend the laws of physics and reality just to have a single, darkly atmospheric hallway. It reminded him of the House of Four Dimensions, but at least that place had been built with semi-adequate lighting. Here, the dim lights flickered, threatening total darkness.

He hadn't encountered anything so far but the suspicious hallway, and the paintings did have that creepy look of eyes behind the walls, but nothing else had happened. He had to admit, what had started off as terrifying was actually starting to bore him. Maybe he'd keyed himself up too much and expected a full fireworks display when all that was available were a few sparklers and a bag of snaps. He tapped the pool cue on his shoulder and kept along the hallway.

It took him some time to realize he wasn't walking in a straight line. Even less time after that to notice that the hallway had begun to curve a little more tightly to the right. Kurama paused, the last two years of physics and engineering courses poking at the back of his brain. He put a hand on the wall; the cold plaster curved under his palm. Unless the hallway straightened itself out at some point further down, he'd be walking right into the center of an ever-decreasing spiral.

Kurama cursed softly and looked back down the way he had come, to see if he could judge just how much longer he had to go before he'd have to turn back.

The lights had gone out. A few paces behind him there was nothing but an inky wall of complete blackness, following him at a slow, deliberate crawl. He felt an even colder chill crawl up his spine as he glanced up at the last remaining light before that dark wall, saw it flicker, and then burn out. The darkness approached.

He hadn't realized he'd started walking backward until he'd turned around and almost run face-first into a painting. He righted himself, and continued down the spiral hallway, the back of his neck prickling at the horrible realization that the darkness was steadily at his heels, and the certainty that, whatever was in there, he didn't want to be alone in that blackness with it.

Because there _was_something in there. There was something in there and it wante-

"MARCO!"

Kurama nearly jumped out of his skin; the pool cue clattered to the floor and he clapped both hands over his mouth to stop a scream. He was almost sure his heart had stopped for a second, and the feeling remained until he realized that it had been Yuusuke's voice shouting at him.

"Polo?" He asked, wondering just where the hell Yuusuke was shouting at him _from._He kept along the hallway, and he heard, in front of him, Yuusuke's voice again.

"Marco!"

Kurama sagged in relief, and bent to grab the pool cue. Yuusuke was in here somewhere, which meant that, however he'd gotten to this place, at least he wasn't alone.

Of course, he hadn't been alone in the first place. He glanced back at the wall of darkness, realized it had closed in during the brief pause between shouts, and every animal instinct of panicked flight screamed at him.

He didn't bother grabbing the cue. Whatever was behind that veil of black wouldn't even laugh at such a pitiful weapon. Kurama ran, heading towards where he hoped he'd heard Yuusuke's voice come from. Not as if he had any choice.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Kuronue demanded, coming up behind Yuusuke. "Who the hell is Marco?"

"Shut up, man, I'm trying to hear him. I think he's getting farther away."

"Marco is?"

Yuusuke smacked him without looking away from the mirror. "No, dumbass, Kurama."

Kuronue grunted, and then blinked. "Don't you mean 'Shuuichi?'" He asked, surprised at this sudden lapse from the detective. The look Yuusuke gave him was one of pure 'do you _want_me to think you're an idiot?' and took Kuronue so aback that he actually stepped away.

"Don't fuck around, man. I know you know."

Kuronue opened his mouth to reply, but behind him, from another mirror, Kurama's voice shouted 'Polo!' in a way that sounded a little less bemused and a lot more panicked. Kuronue turned immediately to the mirror, and caught a brief flash of red hair before the mirror went black.

Yuusuke ran to the next mirror down, but that one looked out on somewhere else entirely. And the next. Kuronue followed, checking each mirror opposite the ones Yuusuke passed, trying to catch another glimpse of - there!

"Mar-" Yuusuke started, but Kuronue shoved him and shouted instead, "Kurama!"

Kurama, or at least what they could see of him, froze, and stared around, wild eyed. Yuusuke shoved Kuronue back, but only enough so that he could easily see into the mirror as well. Their reflections were dim, overlaying a bisected view of Kurama. Two ovular shapes in the darkness like spy-holes were all that afforded a look at him.

"Kurama?" Yuusuke knocked on the mirror, and Kurama jumped, staring in their direction, but apparently not seeing them. Kurama approached whatever portal they were viewing him from hand raised as if to push something aside, but he glanced away, cursed, and began to run again. The mirror went black seconds later.

"He can't see us," Yuusuke growled. "And we can barely see him. What the fuck is going on?"

"It looked like one of those portrait spy-holes, where the eyes slide away," Kuronue said, tapping the mirror. Something indistinct and worrying swam past the two dark spy-eyes. "He won't be able to see us unless-"

Yuusuke was further down the hall already, going from one mirror to another. "Kurama!" He shouted again, pounding on one of them. A breathless affirmative echoed from the other side. Kuronue ran to Yuusuke.

"Kurama, find a mirror," he shouted, grabbing Yuusuke's arm. "A mirror is as good as a window in this place," he hissed to Yuusuke, pointing him down the hallway. "Find the next one; we have to get him out of there."

Yuusuke didn't argue, taking off down the endless hall as Kurama vanished again from sight. The mirror went dark much more quickly this time. Kuronue realized with some very cold certainty that, unless they found a mirror, or some way to get through to him, Kurama would be...  
Yuusuke had halted, face pressed against one of the mirrors. It was growing dark, but he stared intently into it.

"It's a curve," Yuusuke said, stepping back. "He's in a hallway that curves. Like a… spiral, or something."

Kuronue felt an icy chill crawl unbidden up his spine. Why did the thought of that frighten him? What was it about spirals that…

Oh.

"Spiral has to end somewhere," he growled, moving down the hallway again, to the next mirror. When Kurama reached the center, the dark would reach him. What a fucking nightmare. Stuck in an endless hall of barriers against where he really needed to be right now.

He didn't realize that he'd left Yuusuke behind, that he was running blindly to save someone he should by all rights be leaving for dead. He was running on automatic, glancing at each mirror to find just a glimpse of red hair, of _something_. It was only when the mirrors stopped and there was nothing but blank wall that he stopped, running back to the last mirror. He could see Kurama, cornered in the light of a few dim, flickering lights.

"Kurama," he called out, going up on his toes, looking at the mirror from all angles. There was no trick wall behind, nothing he could use to get through. "Kurama, it's a nightmare. You have to wake up."

"No… kidding," Kurama gasped back, staggering over to whatever it was on his side that Kuronue could see through. He was out of breath, sweating, exhausted. Whatever was chasing him, he wouldn't have the strength to fight it.

"I _mean_ it," Kuronue snarled, pounding his fist against the mirror, and instantly regretting it. If it cracked, he'd lose the one link they had.

But, it didn't. The glass moved like liquid around his hand before settling again. Kurama stared from his side, forgetting fear long enough to be shocked.

"What did you just-"

"Shut up and get back," Kuronue snapped, pulling his arm back. "I'm going to try something."

Kurama obeyed. Kuronue let his fist fly, hitting the glass as hard as he could. He could feel it yielding, like elastic. And then it snapped back into shape, and he had a second to curse before his back hit the opposite wall.

"What the fuck, man?" Yuusuke shouted, skidding to a halt next to him. Kurama was saying something, on the other side of the mirror, but whatever it was didn't carry over. The mirror was still rippling, it's surface obscuring sound as well as sight. Kuronue lurched to his feet and leaped at the mirror again, putting everything he had into the punch, gripping the stretched edges of the mirror with his free hand, trying to push through. The mirror rebounded again, and when he hit the wall a second time, he could hear plaster cracking. Or his back. Something.

Yuusuke hauled him up, face set grimly. "I'll get you through," he said, pointing at the mirror. "You get him back."

The light was different, this time. Whatever Yuusuke had hit him with before, with that little wake-up, was nothing compared to the bright heat that seared his eyes and blackened the walls now. The mirror stretched out into infinity, trying to reflect and rebound. It cracked, and finally shattered. Kuronue didn't think twice and jumped through after it.

Kurama was hunched in the corner, arms over his head, a fine dusting of broken glass surrounding him. Kuronue grabbed an arm, ignoring the glass. _Not_ looking at the wall of darkness he could feel creeping up on them. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling Kurama up, making for the mirror, dragging Kurama behind like a doll.

So close. He could feel the weird emptiness in the wall where the mirror had been. He could hear Yuusuke screaming for them to hurry the fuck up. But Kurama had stopped moving.

Kuronue opened his eyes, still trying to pull Kurama along, and saw nothing but the living blackness as it murdered the last of the lights. He could see it shining in Kurama's terrified eyes. Could see the dark _holding_ him, feel it pulling them in.

"Kuro," Kurama whispered, and the sudden pull from the void scared the breath out of them both, Kuronue snatched his free hand forward, grabbing Kurama, pulling. Kurama grabbed back and their arms tangled, fighting it – whatever it was – holding onto each other, grabbing until they embraced. Kuronue could feel Kurama's human heart jackhammering against his chest. "Kuro, it'll take you, too."

"It can fucking try," Kuronue hissed, tightening his grip around Kurama, digging his heels into the floor. He felt himself skid forward, into the pitch. Behind them, Yuusuke was screaming again. He could hear more glass shattering, a fist twisting around the back of his shirt. Another arm went around his middle, and Yuusuke was pulling them both.

The living dark was on them now, slinking its way into everything, trying to pry their arms apart. Yuusuke was cursing, and briefly, Kuronue felt the grip on his torso shift. There was a bright blue flare, but the darkness ate it, swallowing it as easily as it had swallowed them.

* * *

TBC

09/18/2011

HOW MANY OF YOU HATE ME RIGHT NOW? COME AT ME BRO.  
For srs, this was so hard to write. Just give me a morphine drip, already. Pain.


	18. wakingsleeping

Eighteen

Waking/Sleeping

* * *

"Don't touch her."

Kazuma retracted his hand, halfway to shaking Hatenaka Shiori awake. Shizuru knelt by the bed, eyes level with Shiori's face. They could still hear the woman downstairs weeping, but Kazuma was having serious doubts as to whether it really was Kurama's mother down there. Or up here. He was starting to feel a little punch-drunk.

"Did you notice anything strange while we were driving here?" He asked, stepping a little further away from the bed. He kept his back to blank wall, watching bed, windows, and door just in case. There was no closet in this room, thank god. He didn't think he could cope with something coming out of a closet.

"Yes," answered Shizuru, who was slowly moving back to a standing position. She walked around the bed, staring down at Shiori, then twitching aside the curtains on the window. It was all gray and mist out there. Kazuma watched her glance down to the yard and grimace. "Did Kurama ever mention anything about them getting a dog?"

Kazuma shook his head. "Getting him to agree to taking in Misa was enough of a gauntlet; I don't think this family has ever been one for pets."

"Except for foxes," Shizuru murmured to herself. Kazuma bristled, but said nothing. It wasn't his job to defend Kurama against unkind remarks, and he knew better than to challenge his own sister. "Do you know if Mrs. Hatenaka worships Inari? Or her husband?"

He paused, trying to latch on to the direction Shizuru was going with this. His hands, stuffed into his pockets for now, felt frozen. The whole place felt far too cold. He realized he could see his own breath, and hers, and Shiori's, in the air.

"I don't think so."

Shizuru did not ask another question. She put her hand up to the window and her handprint instantly fogged on the glass. When she pulled it away, the mark of her palm looked through to a green, if dreary, summer day. The rest was cold autumn mist.

Hatenaka Shiori stirred in her sleep, shivering. Kazuma longed to put a blanket over the poor woman, at least, but a quick look from Shizuru stayed his hand. Downstairs, Hatenaka Shiori stopped crying.

The Kuwabara siblings shared a glance, and turned towards the door. The sound of a chair being pushed away from the kitchen table echoed throughout the house. Footsteps. If they looked, they knew they would see her shadow at the bottom of the stairs.

"The train is coming," Shiori called up to them. "It's all right, now. The train is coming and they'll be there."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kazuma could see the sleeping Shiori's mouth moving along with the words.

"Don't worry," downstairs Shiori said. "I have tickets for all of us." A pause, then her footsteps clicked off into silence. The front door opened and closed.

"What the hell did she mean by-" Kazuma began, but Shizuru held up her hand for silence. She was at the door now, staring down the hallway to the stairs intently. A picture hanging on the wall shuddered and fell, spewing glass everywhere. Glass that stayed in the air, turning lazily, refracting the dull, frozen light of the bedroom. His hand immediately curled, palm in, the spark of his reiki the only warmth he could feel. The floorboards began to creak and shudder under his feet.

"How far can that thing take us?" Shizuru asked, turning from the door and, to Kazuma's surprise, scooping Shiori out of the bed and into her arms like the woman weighed no more than a doll. Kazuma stared dumbly at her and she scowled. "The Jigen-Tou you idiot, can you control where it takes us?"

That snapped Kazuma out of his stupor and he nodded. "If I know where we're going, yeah."

"Good. Temple, now." Shizuru snapped, navigating through the broken glass. "Damn the car, we'll get it later."

Kazuma brought the Jigen-Tou to life, staring at his sister, the glass, Kurama's mother. "But, what's going on?"

"I'll tell you later," Shizuru hissed. "We don't want to be here when the train arrives."

* * *

_How much longer, _Yukina wondered, _am I going to spend staring at this person's back?_

She followed Hiei through the dim forest, both of them slowed by mud and rain, and in Hiei's case, wounds he wouldn't admit hut him too much for anything faster than a brisk walk. Yukina knew he was in pain. She also knew he'd keep going, like a stubborn idiot, until he came back. Dragging Kurama, if he had to.

It would have been so much easier with the eye, but Hiei hadn't let her near it, and even if he had she wasn't sure she could have healed it much. She'd heard stories about Jagan implants. Suffering through injury is what kept the bond strong with the patient. The very idea made her want to rip the damned thing right out of his fool head.

Given half a chance, she may have done just that. The way things were going now, however, losing any asset they had, no matter how distasteful, would have been disastrous.

She stumbled through the brush, following the black shadow that represented Hiei through the creeping dimness. He'd run off without saying anything, as usual, but this time she was sure it was due to more immediate concerns than his regimented need for privacy. Because hadn't Kurama been acting particularly strange since they'd come here? Kuronue definitely contributed to that, but Kurama had pulled further away from the rest of them than ever before. Like he'd been in the same room, but separated by a wall of glass.

Yukina hadn't realized she'd lost sight of Hiei until his hand lashed out of the darkness and grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her to a stop. He crouched, motioning for her to follow, in the shadow of dense pine. She heard rain on water and realized they were at the lake.

Near the shore, in the wet, green dimness, she could see a pair of shoes, one tipped on its side, on the muddy sand. A dog was sniffing at them.

A big dog. One with feathers.

She held her breath as soon as she smelled them, a stench like the Tengu that had invaded Kurama's apartment the day (had it only been a day?) before. There were more of them, milling around at the water's edge, whining and worrying at the lake, turbulent with rain. Some of them were more bird than dog, crow's feet instead of paws, beaks instead of muzzles.

"Kurama," she heard Hiei mutter. He stood, making his way towards the dogs and the shore. Yukina grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back down, yanking him so hard that he gasped. A few of the dogs looked idly in their direction.

"Don't be stupid," she hissed, letting go of the shirt. He was staring at her, perplexed, angry, and she could see a little of respect in there too, but didn't care. "You're injured, you have no weapons, and you don't know how many there are."

"But he's in there," Hiei growled back, though he made no move to stand.

"_I_ don't sense him," she said, crouching a little lower when one of the dogs seemed to look a little more interested in their location. "I can't even smell him. If he was here, he's gone now."

"How the hell would _you _know?" Hiei blurted, adding another level to the amount of stupid Yukina suddenly found herself juggling today. She was in no mood to be forgiving.

"Sorry, lest we forget, didn't I spend the majority of my life searching Makai for my brother? I'm a demon, Hiei. I know how to track. And I know Kurama isn't here. He was, but he isn't any more."

Hiei stared at her. Yukina stared back. They'd never had a fight before, never had a chance to for various reasons, but she'd be damned twice if she was going to let him run into the thick of things without a weapon. She wasn't a fighter, she didn't know much about battle tactics aside from what it took to get _away_ from trouble.

Hiei opened his mouth to speak. A flash of orange light interrupted him, and the dogs began to screech.

* * *

When Yuusuke woke up, he immediately noticed two things were wrong. He had a headache. His hands were empty.

The headache could wait.

Yuusuke pushed himself up on his hands and knees. There was grit under his hand and he could hear pebbles rolling away into the darkness. He could smell blood. He immediately recognized it as his own, mingled with others – both only passingly familiar. Kurama, maybe. It was difficult telling when it smelled so human. And he'd lay odds on the rest being Kuronue.

Maybe they'd been cut on the glass of that broken mirror/window/whatever. Maybe something had happened to them in the dark. Hell, he was _still_ in the dark. He held a hand up to his face, and snapped his fingers. Blue light sparked and covered his hand. It was as good as a cheap lamp, for now. He didn't dare shove too much power into just being able to see.

Two figures on the ground, a few paces away. About fifty yards of black hair identified one as Kuronue. Damp clothing and the smell of lakewater, unnoticed until now, was Kurama. Kuronue was breathing, beginning to wake, but Kurama…

It wasn't just the light making his face look waxen and blue; Yuusuke knew that immediately. He jumped over Kuronue, who had one hand still clasped firmly around Kurama's. He dropped to his knees, pressing his ear against Kurama's soaked shirt, listening for a heartbeat that seemed to have just given up the fight. He pounded his fist against Kurama's chest and listened again. A feeble attempt at a pulse answered him. As long as the ticker was still ticking.

He sat up again, kicking Kuronue awake. He moved to Kurama's head, tilting his face, remembering a vague video or poster on CPR. Water was trickling out of Kurama's mouth. Yuusuke cursed and tried to remember if chest compressions or mouth-to mouth came first. Kuronue grumbled behind him, pulling into wakefulness. The smell of blood was stronger now. Kurama's heart was stopping again.

Stupid thing. Stupid, weak, human thing. Why did they have to be so easy to stop? Just a little fucking water and he's dying? What the fuck was that?

"Kurama, why is your hand so cold?" Kuronue murmured, apparently still half asleep, or delirious. What had happened when they were in the dark?

Yusuke pounded his fist on the stone floor, barely feeling it. He put his hands on Kurama's chest and pushed, feeling the pitifully weak pulse under his palms. There was a sludgy noise and he could see more water, leaking out of Kurama's mouth, nose. He pulled back, pushed again. More water, reflecting in the blue light that had climbed all the way up to his arm by now. He was too nervous to keep it down. Kuronue, behind him, was scrambling to his feet.

"What's-"

"Drowning," Yuusuke said, pushing once more. Just a little bit of water this time, Kurama didn't seem inclined to start breathing on his own.

"How did-"  
"Do I look like I fucking know? Get over here and help me!" Yuusuke didn't want to think about how shrill he sounded. He kept pushing, unsure now if he was really feeling a heartbeat or if he'd pushed too hard and that was the bones popping. Kuronue was kneeling at Kurama's head, bending. Fingers crossed over the black bruises those selfsame hands had put there only days ago.

Yuusuke kept pushing. Both arms were on fire with reiki, filling the room with blue light. He wanted to shove the light right through Kurama's skin and just make him _breathe_ again dammit, couldn't they get a fucking break and would he just breathe already?

He didn't realize he was crying until Kurama finally wheezed and turned over, vomiting out the rest of the water that had clogged his lungs. It was an ugly noise, but so god damn beautiful at that very second it was all Yuusuke could do to keep from breaking down and sobbing like a child.

Kuronue was holding Kurama's hair back, looking at Yuusuke with something like bewildered fear. Yes, all that had just happened. Stuck in and endless hallway of mirrors into dreams, pulled into a black nightmare that they couldn't remember (or were pretending not to) and now _this?_

Kurama was slowly pushing himself up off the floor now. Alive enough that even through the panic and confusion Yuusuke could hear the pulse from where he sat.

"God," he said softly, sitting back on his heels. He looked from Kurama, who was slumped now against the cave wall, to Kuronue, who still had a hand wrapped around some of Kurama's damp hair, and back again. "You assholes better never put me through anything as scary as that again."

Kurama laughed weakly, wiping at his face with the back of a hand. Kuronue realized he was still clinging and hastily let go of Kurama's hair, scooting away a little bit. Yuusuke glared at Kuronue, who glared back in defiance. It was the "I'm still mad at him and there's nothing you can say that will make it better" glare. He saw it a lot with Keiko, after one of her boyfriends drove her just as crazy as _he_ did. It was a stupid look, one of his least favorites. To see it on Kuronue's face, after everything that had just happened, made him want to slap the Tengu silly. For now, though, he had Kurama to worry about.

"What happened to you?" Kurama rasped, looking exhaustedly at him. Yuusuke noticed he was starting to shake. It was fucking cold in this cave, he realized, and humans did about as well with cold as they did deep water.

"_Me?_ What about you? Why the fuck are you all wet?"

"Went for a swim," Kurama murmured, eyebrows pulling down. He was frowning, his features pale and spooky in the light. "_You_ look like you were in a car wreck. Again, as it were."

"Oh, lovely." Kuronue muttered, before Yuusuke could answer. "Trapped in a speeding mechanical monster with a lunatic asleep at the wheel. If you killed me, Yuusuke, I will be very disappointed."

"What do you mean, 'asleep at the wheel?'" Kurama asked, struggling to sit up a little straighter. He pulled his feet under him. Yuusuke realized he was barefoot. He realized they had bigger things to worry about than catching up.

"We can play family reunion later, when we're not stuck in some fucking cave god knows where." He stood up, and offered a hand to both of them. "We need to get out of here and find out what happened. _Then_ we can argue over my driving skills."

"Or lack thereof," Kuronue muttered, taking Yuusuke's hand anyway. Yuusuke stuck out his tongue and pulled them both to their feet. Whatever hell they'd walked in to, at least they were together.

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me."

Some hours had gone by, Kurama had lost count of how many, but after sliding through crawlspaces almost too small to fit, and treading lightly through caverns that echoed quiet sinister whispers back at them, they'd finally come to a point where they could see light, and smell air.

Of course that point would be directly above their heads, about five storeys up.

It had been a long, silent trudge, and this was just the icing on the cake.

"Man, this is the worst fucking daytrip of my life," Yuusuke said. He was staring up at the hole, hands on his hips. Kuronue silently watched their backs. He'd walked beside or behind Kurama the entire time, though but for one very intense and uncomfortable look, neither of them had said anything to the other.

"Well, I can climb it," Yuusuke was saying. "Kuro, you think you could carry-"

"No."

Kurama didn't flinch, but he felt like he'd been hit with something. He kept his mouth shut.

"Not through an opening that small," Kuronue amended. "I'd need more space to get a head start."

_Especially carrying dead weight, _Kurama thought miserably.

"Well, shit. Kurama, you know math and stuff, right?" Yuusuke said, poking him in the arm. He flinched, and saw Kuronue scowl out of the corner of his eye.

"I've been known to dabble with equations," he replied, giving Yuusuke a wary look. Whatever the detective was planning, he already didn't like it. Still, focusing on Yuusuke's special levels of insanity was something he'd rather do than focus on the inevitable talk he would need to have with Kuronue. Yuusuke was beaming at him, glowing blue with excitement. Or nervousness. Probably both.

"How hard d'you think I'd have to throw to get the two of you up there?"

Silence echoed through the cavern. A pin would have clanged.

"You are not throwing me anywhere," Kuronue said.

"You're not throwing him anywhere," Kurama said, at the same time. "That's a stupid idea, Yuusuke, and it won't work.

* * *

"This is a stupid idea and it won't work," Kuronue hissed. Yuusuke's arms clasped his; Kurama clung to his back, shaking.

"On the bright side, if he misses, our deaths will be relatively quick and painless."

"What brought on your sudden optimistic streak, I truly wonder," Kuronue growled.

"Are you two old ladies ready or what?" Yuusuke asked, characteristically excited to be using his companions as lawn darts. Their combined glare was all the affirmative he needed. Yuusuke dug his heels into the ground, and started spinning.

"ONE!" Yuusuke shouted, as the first revolution completed. Kurama's grip tightened, Kuronue tensed, willing his wings back, pushing himself out of the human shape he'd been borrowing.

"TWO!" The second revolution completed; Kuronue felt the prickle of wings wanting to stretch through his skin.

"THUH-REE!" And suddenly they were airborne, shooting up through the cavern to the thin escape far faster than he'd ever been able to take off on his own. Kuronue's wings peeled out of his back, shedding skin and feathers and scraps of his shirt. He just needed two good beats and serious precision and they were free. He could hear Yuusuke shouting encouragement from below. Kurama was clinging to him like a damp burr. He could see the light pouring through the ceiling of the cave and his wings remembered the years at the bottom of that dark well, flying them to freedom better than mere will could have sustained.

They broke through into a fog of heat, the stench of old-growth forest and ozone wrapping around them like a shroud. Kuronue kept flying, up past the canopy of dense trees the ringed the nearly-invisible cave mouth. Yellow lightning blasted through sickly purple clouds and he realized with shock that the'd escaped one nightmare to find themselves in the middle of another.

They were home.

This was Makai.

* * *

TBC

9/25/2011

And you thought I was done being a bitch for this month. 3

Comments, critiques, suggestions, all make me a happy panda.

By the way, come hang out with me on Tumblr. The more the merrier!

Tehfawx .tumblr .com, minus the spaces, of course.


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